


The Dragon and the Pearl

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, I had to make one, M/M, Prince!ikkaku, wtf theres no rurixhozu tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 81,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: Once upon a time there was a foolish young prince, nine golden peahens, and a magical apple tree......A tale of political intrigue, adventure, and magic that follows the servant, Renji, on his quest for true love as Prince Ikkaku tracks down a shapeshifting peacock.





	1. Chapter 1

_Once upon a time there was a kingdom of wild men ruled by a King, his Queen, and their bull-headed son._

_The young prince spent his time studying to take over for his father, the Kempachi, the strongest warrior in the land. He’d learned much about the values of his people and what he would need to protect as king_ – _honor, country, family, home._

_He’d killed a thousand beasts, traveled a thousand miles through the foothills of brigand’s country, he’d led a thousand men, but still he was not ready to become king, for there was still much that he did not know. Besides not having surpassed his father’s strength, he still had yet to learn love, patience, or compromise, and could not claim the throne as a reckless fool. This was the way of the North._

_In other words, the prince must find a bride._

_Until he might find his princess, together, the prince and his parents ruled the warriors of the North in an old and impenetrable stone fortress by the sea_ —

_... and within the castle walls, there lay an unimaginably precious treasure: a magical golden apple tree._

 

…

 

Ikkaku returned from the hunt at dusk with his band of men to much awaited news.

He’d enjoyed a long ride through the countryside with his men and a pack of hounds, and had come back panting hard and sweating, riding up the road and through the rear gates where the barracks, stables, and servants’ quarters were. He leapt off his horse and handed it off to an attendant, once his childhood playmate.

“The Kempachi would speak with you, my prince.”

“Mm,” he grunted irritably.

Removing his gloves and stretching, Ikkaku meant to walk off, but quickly stepped back when a little girl leapt out of a bush and lunged for his shoulders. “Hey!”

“It’s about your new princess, Prince Baldy!” Yachiru chirped, taking a hold of his belt and running around him like a maypole. Ikkaku’s sour frown melted at that, and he stood up straight in excitement, looking about and making to walk off to the castle at a quick pace.

Yachiru quickly latched on around his leg, meaning to come along for the ride, at which Ikkaku huffed and shook his foot a bit, letting her hang off his leg. “Is she bald too?” she questioned, upside down.

“She is not!” he barked, “She’s a beautiful-” he sputtered a bit, then hissed, _“lady.”_

He grabbed the back of her dress and set her down, holding her back with his toe as she tried to grab him and continue bugging him. “Get off. I have business to take care of."

"I wanna' play though!"

"Go on and play with Renji if you’re bored.”

“Miss, please come away,” Renji muttered quietly, still standing there on the side with Ikkaku’s horse. He bent and reached a hand out to her.

Ikkaku didn’t stay behind to see the ensuing tantrum, stomping off to meet his father. He expected it was to talk to him about the conversation they’d had a few days prior: now that he was of age, it was time for him to find a bride.

In his country, you were only considered fully an adult once you wed or partnered off, and then became a citizen once your first child was born or fostered – ergo, Ikkaku cannot become king until he has a queen. It was all about partnership, or having someone to keep your stupidity in check, as his father put it.

Ikkaku hadn’t liked the idea when he’d been younger, particularly during his teen years, but he’d warmed up to it, and by now he was very eager to become a man and be eligible to rule. Once he’d accepted his responsibility as prince, he’d come to his mother and father with an idea for a potential bride: the princess of the Swamp Kingdom.

Ikkaku knew that it would really suit his parents and the kingdom if he and the princess did end up together. Kurotsuchi’s kingdom would make fine allies, and although Ikkaku was wary of the Fugai like his father was and didn’t like the scenery or the idea of living there, their daughter was very beautiful. She reminded him of his wonderful mother – not in a weird way, of course.

Eventually his father had agreed to arrange their engagement, after much pleading, because although King Kenpachi hadn’t liked the idea initially, Ikkaku had worn him down.

Striding up to his father’s study, Ikkaku rapped the door with his knuckles and then poked his head into the room. “Yes Kempachi?” he called, and then came in when he was invited, closing the door behind him and standing at attention.

His father was poring over his maps, studying the raid routes used by the country across the sea. Ikkaku waited to be acknowledged, practically vibrating where he stood from anticipation. At last, impatient, he could not stand it any longer, and hesitantly raised the question, “Is this about Princess Nemu?”

The Kempachi glanced up to him for a moment and then grunted, sitting back in his chair. “Oh. Yeah. Have you decided?”

“I have, I think I have,” Ikkaku said, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands clasped behind his back.

Kenpachi shot an eye up at him for a long second. “Gonna’ give it the go ahead?”

“Yes.”

“A’right. I’ll send a missive,” his father said dismissively. “Everything’s been arranged.”

Ikkaku brightened up, watching in excitement as the Kempachi signed a piece of paper, folded it up, and put it in an envelope, then stamped it with hot wax to seal it.

When that letter arrived to the Kurotsuchi family in the Fugai, he’d be engaged to get married!

“She’s accepted me?” Ikkaku wondered eagerly.

“You gotta’ win them over first,” Kenpachi reminded, eyeing him with a grimace that settled Ikkaku down a bit.

“Right, right,” he muttered absently, hand on his chin. He remembered now. He wasn’t allowed to wed her until he won her favor… and that of King Kurotsuchi, her father, of course – but Ikkaku was up to the challenge. For Princess Nemu he’d slay a thousand beasts!

Well, he’d do that anyways, probably. The point was, Ikkaku liked her alot, and he was pleased that she’d given him the chance to win her hand - realistically, he knew that it was less about him winning her over and more about their parents negotiating, but that wasn't as romantic to think about. 

Considering the coming weeks, Ikkaku frowned and asked, “When am I to court her?”

“Soon,” his father answered, purposefully and stubbornly vague, his eyebrows drawn low in irritation, and Ikkaku could see he wasn’t in the mood to be bothered a second more after all the begging and pestering he had done in the previous months. “Now get you gone.”

“Right. Yes Kempachi,” Ikkaku obeyed, unable to stop an excited smile or to keep his hands from coiling up in anticipation where they were clasped behind his back. “Alright, I’ll go now.”

The king waved a hand to dismiss him. “Fool boy,” he muttered, returning his attention to his work.

Ikkaku felt light with happiness as he walked out into the hall and headed off. He’d be engaged soon! What luck he had to be able to court a lady like Princess Nemu. He thought of all the ways he could impress her with his warrior’s strength and prove he’d be a worthy husband.

That night, the prince spent many hours in restless anticipation, planning how to woo his future bride – but all was not well in the Kingdom of the North.

Deep within the palace garden where the magical golden tree stood, the wind was blowing. Something flickered through the leaves, disturbing them as the last ray of the setting sun was hidden beyond the garden wall.

Hours later, in the light of the dawn, the apples were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Once upon a time there was an orphan who grew up to become a slave and a stable boy. His entire life was work from morning till dusk and his only friends had been long lost._

_Somehow, the slave boy became a man whose heart was soft and yearned for love. Somehow he still had the time and the strength to dream._

 

...

 

Renji heard about the apple tree crisis and the King’s raging earlier than most, which was somewhat of a surprise, as Renji’s life consisted of endless hours in the stables caring for the horses, greasing the riding gear of the prince and that of his band of warriors, and overseeing the errand boys he was in charge of – not to mention any extra work given to him by the prince, should he so wish.

He hadn’t exactly meant to overhear, but as he’d been wandering the castle doing various tasks for Prince Ikkaku in preparation for his journey to see Lady Nemu of the Fugai, he found out what had happened.

The apples were disappearing; it seemed that someone was stealing them.

Renji wasn’t usually credited with much intelligence due to his heritage, which sometimes was to his advantage, as he could get away with more if others thought him too simple or stupid to know better – but he was smart enough to know that this was a big problem.

The queen needed the apples. There were some saved up of course, but it was still cause for concern if someone was stealing them. They were for her health, and if things went on like this for too long, who knew what would happen.

Emperor Kenpachi had sent some servants to see who’d taken their magical fruits from the garden. Only specially trusted people were usually permitted into the garden to collect the apples. Renji didn’t even know where the garden was on the castle grounds, which was saying something, as he’d been a landscaper as a teen. Apparently even the prince didn’t go near the tree – although that could be more due to negligence and disinterest than being forbidden to do so. 

First, Aramaki was sent, which might have been poor judgement on the Kempachi’s part – if Renji were to ever think the Kempachi could have poor judgement in any matter; which he didn’t, of course.

Renji had heard him report back to the King that when it had become dark in the garden, he’d gone out and lain down near the tree to watch – but as the apples had started to ripen, sleep had overtaken him, and when he’d woken at dawn, he’d looked around, but where were the apples? Taken away!

When he’d seen that, he’d come to tell the Kempachi – who was not pleased with his incompetence.

Renji hadn’t been able to stay and listen to the horrible shouting, instead fleeing down the corridor in terror with all his hair standing up. The Kempachi had his kind side, but he was a terrifying man nonetheless. His temper was legendary.

Next, Iba, a respected warrior, volunteered.

“I will go tonight to see who takes them,” he said that night when the knights were gathered home from a hunt, passing their horses off to Renji and the younger stable hands.

Renji watched them go off towards the barracks to carouse into the night, and he had hope that Iba would be able to solve the mystery. He was so disciplined, he’d surely do it!

However, to his disappointment and worry, the Kempachi called for him personally the following day. He racked his brain but could not think of any reason that he would be reprimanded, anything he’d done that required punishment – still his stomach was in knots on the way there.

As he passed outside the appointed room to meet Emperor Kenpachi, he could hear Iba discussing his mission. Renji waited in the hallway and listened. 

He too had watched the tree as Aramaki had, and when the apples had begun ripening, he’d fallen asleep. When he’d woken up, where were the apples? Gone!

Emperor Kempachi was getting quite testy, having had more faith in one of his men. Renji didn’t particularly want to see the king, feeling somehow that he was in trouble, especially now that the Kempachi was in a bad mood.

Iba told him that he would go on a journey and return when he’d trained his spirit with more discipline. Renji startled when the door opened fully next to him as Iba left, and to his dread, the Kempachi spotted him waiting in the doorway.

“Boy,” he noted, and Renji snapped to attention, his eyes lowered and his cheeks red. “Eavesdropping, huh?”

At the fond, near-fatherly tone that he had used when he and Prince Ikkaku had been little boys, Renji relaxed somewhat, tentatively stepping in, still embarrassed, but now certain that he was not about to be scolded. Even when Ikkaku had begun to scorn his friendship and grow out of playing with him in the yard with the chickens, the Kempachi has always been nice to him, lenient even.

In any case, he still bowed at the waist and said, “My apologies, Kempachi.”

Paying him no mind, the king stared him down and asked directly, “What’re your thoughts?” Renji looked up, confused.  
  
“Sir?”

“‘M sure you know, little rascal, that the magic apples are disappearing. I sent that good-for-nothing Aramaki and he had nothing to report.”

“Yessir,” Renji acknowledged, paying close attention. It had been a long time since the two of them had had a direct conversation.

“And then my chief strategist comes back much the same,” the Kempachi grumbled, resting his chin on his knuckles with a scowl. “Wonder if I oughtta’ change methods… Maybe captain a’ the guard…”

Renji scuffed his toe, taking a hesitant step closer. “... Ah, Kempachi,” he began, waiting to be allowed to speak. The king grunted, and Renji bobbed his head. “Should you perhaps tell Prince Ikkaku, your majesty?”

King Kenpachi snorted. “Nah,” he dismissed, “let him fool about for a while longer.”

“Yessir.” Renji tilted his head.

“I’ve got news for him on that score in any case an’ he’ll be far too distracted to be bothered with this.” Renji knew that meant it was something to do with Lady Nemu, and privately, he agreed. Prince Ikkaku’s been very distractable lately.

“When you come across that fool, send him in to me.”

“Yessir.”

“An’ mind you keep this t’yourself, boy.” The Kempachi turned his head away, waving a hand to dismiss him, but Renji saw his eyes were smiling, and he smiled back, bowing at the waist.

“Understood, Kempachi,” he said with warmth in his heart, and then took his leave.

Ikkaku was very excited when Renji was summoned to his bedroom that evening. Apparently the Princess of the Fugai had accepted their engagement. He’d already planned to ride out to the brigand country the next morning for a few days to find a trinket to give her as a token of affection.

After Ikkaku dismissed him to go to bed, Renji was up all night preparing for his departure, getting the prince’s horse and riding gear ready.

He watched enviously as the warrior party prepared for departure the following morning.

“Renji!” he was called. Renji dutifully came.  
  
As he handed off Ikkaku’s sword and calmed his horse, petting its nose, Renji stood in a humble silence as he held the rest of Ikkaku’s gear and watched the prince absently fool about with the others. Ikkaku forgot about him for a time, but after putting on his riding gloves and unburdening Renji fully, Renji, not even confident that he would be heard over the laughing and shouting of the eager warriors, wished, “Please have a safe journey, my prince.”

Ikkaku glanced towards him for a second, adjusting his sword on his belt, and Renji dropped his chin. “Only a few days. Not long now and we’ll be traveling much farther.”

Prince Ikkaku then mentioned offhand that when he left to visit the Princess to win her hand, Renji would accompany him.

Renji lifted his eyes and felt his heart would burst at this, prideful and excited, and he hoped beyond hope that Prince Ikkaku meant it.

The Captain of the Guard, Hisagi Shuuhei, seemed to have overheard, and he cast a glance towards him down his nose. The overjoyed beginnings of a smile fighting its way onto Renji’s face fell cold.

“I urge you to reconsider, M’lord,” he told the prince, looking at Renji like dirt. Renji glanced between the two of them.

“Ah?” Ikkaku hummed distractedly, barely looking towards Hisagi.

“I’d point out that he was born in a barn and ought to stay there, my prince.” Renji’s stomach took an alarming flip: anger, dread, outrage.

Ikkaku snorted. “We’ll discuss this later.”

He mounted his horse and waved a farewell, departing with the other warriors. Renji watched them go, heart burning with jealousy, but he quailed under Captain Hisagi’s sharp gaze.

Even if it meant remaining behind during Prince Ikkaku’s journey to the Fugai, Renji knew it would be better than to attract too much of Hisagi’s attention or scorn. It would only bring trouble back into his life.

Still, it didn’t make the disappointment any less difficult to bear. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more than to visit the Fugai with the rest of the convoy – and to think Prince Ikkaku had, however nonchalantly, invited him personally!

In Prince Ikkaku’s absence, Renji worked harder than ever. He was going to be on his best behavior and hope against hope that he could both keep whatever favor he had with the prince and also stay off the captain’s bad side.

Things weren’t quite so simple, however. Two days later, the Kempachi was in a fret, and was downright bad-tempered.

Having retreated into his chambers with his wife for most of the day, the Kempachi had come out mean and quick to snap, and Renji suspected that the queen was growing ill, or at least the Kempachi wished her to rest in safety until they resolved this very worrying issue.

Renji knew it was none of his business despite his curiosity, but all the same he prayed to the holy mountain for the queen’s good health before going to bed each night.

Later on, the Kempachi needed to see a man about a horse, and, being the senior stable hand, Renji was sent for. He didn’t envy the poor souls who had to face the Kempachi during a temper, but of course, sometimes the burden fell on his own shoulders too.

Exercising great caution, Renji went trepidatiously, and found the Kempachi on his throne, scowling deeply. “Boy, get my horse ready for this evening.”

“Yessir, at once,” he obeys, bowing his head. The Kempachi grunted in displeasure. Renji swallowed, wondering recklessly if what he was about to say would help or only get him into deep trouble.

“Ahh, Kempachi,” he began hesitantly.

“What,” the king grumbled nastily, but not excessively so.

Pushing his luck, Renji asked, “Sir, has a way been found to catch the apple thief?”

The Kempachi banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “No one can even catch sight a’ the damn thief!” he shouted in frustration, slapping his chin into his palm and brooding.

Renji, filled to the brim with hope and devotion to the family that had taken him in, asked as meekly as he could, “You wouldn’t allow me to try, Kempachi...?”

Instead of scolding him or growing furious, King Kenpachi merely shut his mouth and turned his head, giving him an assessing look. Seeing that he might actually be considering the idea, or at the very least, indulging his boldness, Renji felt free to speak. If he could just prove himself to the Kempachi, or better yet, to the prince, regain his friendship…

The Kempachi wasn’t unkind in his answer. Still gazing at him steadily, he said, “I’ve sent the best and the brightest to watch over the tree, and all of them return to tell me the same thing.” He waved a hand. “And I should allow you and expect a different result?”

Renji understood the tone in his voice: doubt; pity. Renji wasn’t the lowest ranking member of the castle staff, but he was treated that way at times. He was a stable boy and a bastard, a former slave, and had been a plaything cast aside by the prince. Most of all, he was from the South, a Rukonjin. Why on earth would he be able to do anything that his betters couldn’t?

Really, the king ought to punish him for even daring to suggest that he might try – but the Kempachi had something of a soft spot for him. He’d been the one to save Renji from slavers by purchasing him as a child and letting him work in the castle. The Kempachi had taken him on, an illegitimate orphan slave boy, at around the time his own son had turned ten, wanting Ikkaku to have someone to play with. Renji’s never had a father or anything like it, but the king was perhaps the closest thing he’d ever claim to have had, growing up. Although it was different now that he and Ikkaku were both young men, Renji still could get away with a bit if it could go unnoticed, and seeing as he and the Kempachi were alone…

Renji openly begged, “Kempachi, if you would allow me the chance-”

“You’d have to be awake all hours of the night. None can seem to achieve it.”

Seeing that there might be the tiniest opportunity that he might get his way, Renji only begged harder. “I’m awake at all hours of the night to complete my duties, Sir,” he insisted. “It would be no hardship, M’lord, if I were to try – with your permission.”

Kempachi considered it with a hum.

Renji begged and begged, and eventually the Kempachi agreed. “Very well,” he said, and Renji lit up in joy. “See that you don’t fail like those other fools, my boy.”

And god, if Renji didn’t glow at being _‘my_ boy’ for once. He’s never been anyone’s boy.

“Yessir! Thank you Kempachi!” He didn’t know what to do with himself, he was so excited.

More seriously, the Kempachi told him in a low voice, “I’ll warn you, do not approach the tree. Sit you down and watch. Report what you see.” Renji nodded vigorously.

“I won’t let you down, Kempachi,” he said, as composed as he manage at the moment. He made to leave, came to a halting stop, bowed hurriedly, then left, hearing the king snort from behind him.

Renji closed the door behind him, then jumped in the air as he ran down the hall, heart soaring. He definitely won’t let them down!

He was in a good mood for the rest of the evening. He got the King’s horse ready and hurried along to oversee the young boys as they took care of the animals for the night.

After chasing the milkmaids and pulling their skirts, Renji went out at eventide to the magical garden, having been told where it was by the knight who’d made the previous attempt.

Not many people knew this, but Renji was enamored by magic. In the North there was a general feeling of distrust for magic, the people of the mountain, and especially the East, where spirits often came down from the mountain to live. However, Renji wasn’t a northerner. He’d grown up in the South, in Inuzuri, and saw the mountain and the magical land of the east as a place of hope. After all, the East was where the sun rose.

And so now, the single magical entity in all of Zaraki, would be his to behold. Renji could hardly steady his fiercely pounding heart, his excited breathing. What would a magical garden look like? What would the _tree_ look like?

Cautiously entering through the gate and walking through a short stone passageway, Renji slowly stepped out into the garden, which was a humongous open-air courtyard, grassy and dense with trees and shrubs, old overgrown fountains.

He gaped and marveled at the wild beauty of the flowers within the high-walled garden, but stayed determinedly focused on his task, taking a straight path through the crowded, untended greenery, and came to a center clearing where the plants had been more carefully groomed.

There stood what could be nothing other than the magical apple tree, growing upon a mound.

It was beautifully shaped, with thick low branches perfect for climbing, its trunk not a perfect straight line, instead curving elegantly, large roots wrapping into the ground. Its leaves and trunk, even the very grass of the clearing all seemed to glow greenish yellow, the way plants do when the sun shines through them. They shone like this as though it was noon on a sunny day despite it being half-past midnight.

Renji looked at it, breath taken away by its loveliness, but as the shadows of the dense garden ended, he stopped, just as his toes met the edge of the golden glow in the clearing. There he sat down in the darkness and worked, carving a design into a slab of wood that he’d brought along to pass the time.

Soon he was glad he’d obeyed the Kempachi, since he eventually noticed a gigantic serpent lazing around the trunk of the tree, eyeing him in sinister suspicion. It gave him quite a start. The beauty of the magical tree had so enamored him that he hadn’t even seen the great beast at first.

Renji dutifully remained where he was in the darkness and whittled, determined not to move no matter what amazing things the magical tree might do. He will succeed, at any cost. With the whole world expecting him to return in failure, he had no other choice but to prove he was not worthless, not useless. He must remain vigilant the whole night through.

Not long had passed when the tree began to change.

Renji watched as it burst into blossoms, enjoying how pretty it was to see the gleaming white flowers open. Bees from a nearby hut drifted out and pollinated the flowers cheerily, creating a happy peaceful buzz.

The moon had risen high into the sky by then, and the flowers and leaves of the tree seemed to gleam golden in the darkness, while now, everything else was touched with pale silver moonlight. The grass around Renji’s legs was cold with dew, and his bones began to ache from sitting on the damp ground, but he did not move.

At around two o'clock, when the apples began to sprout and ripen, Renji watched very carefully in fascination. The fruits were growing right before his eyes and they looked delicious. They gleamed so brightly, they looked like pieces of solid metal, yet still tender and juicy enough to bite into. Their golden light was illuminating the yard.

Renji set down the little wooden sword he’d hewn and decorated, making to stand up to get a better look.

It crossed his mind then that perhaps he should try to pick some of the apples before the thief came, or before the apples rotted away, or however they’d been disappearing. The dragon was terrifying to look at, but surely it must allow _someone_ to pick the apples if the queen has been using the apples for so long?

Renji knew that he should just endure the final few hours in silence, observing as he'd been told, but all the same, he considered how one might go about picking the apples, how the thief might achieve this and how they might be stopped.

As he stood there looking at the golden fruit, there came a sudden noise, and Renji startled, hiding himself behind a tree in the shadows. He peered out with his heart pounding. Had the thief arrived?

Heart filled with indignance and excitement, he watched carefully for many long moments, straining his eyes and ears for anything more.

To his surprise, up flew nine large birds – peahens, he realized – eight of which settled on the ground in the clearing, as glowing golden and lovely as the apples.

The ninth bird settled near the tree, and as it was separated from the group, Renji could get a better look at it. On closer inspection, this was a peacock, and it was silver.

To his great alarm, the serpent, which had until then been lying motionless but for the roving of its great eye, coiled up and opened its jaws, showing its massive teeth and fiery orange eyes. Renji pressed his lips together tightly as he watched it rear up above the comparatively small bird.

As it seemed it was about to snap the bird up and swallow it whole, the peacock began to chirp and trill and then sing the most lovely song Renji had ever heard.

The dragon closed its mouth, cocked its head, and then hunkered down, wrapping its scaled neck along the ground close to the bird’s feet, affectionate and lazy, and shut its eyes in sleep. The peacock settled against the dragon’s leg and continued to sing, and up the peahens flew, perching in the tree with the apples, gobbling them up.

The peacock glowed brightly with silver light, and Renji reflexively shielded his eyes with his arm. He stopped himself when he realized he might draw attention with the sudden movement, but the damage was done. As he moved, the peacock seemed to glow brighter, changing… growing?

Soon it became a tall beam of silver light, a figure that seemed to turn and meet eyes with him, and the lovely song suddenly felt heavy and irresistible. He slumped to the ground, feeling the impact as one would fall into a pillow, and his eyes began to drift closed in sleep.

As he drifted off, Renji could swear he heard the laughter and chatter of pretty girls, and the singing of a lovely mellow voice.

When he awoke later, it was morning and the sparrows were singing, and the fragrant garden swayed in the breeze around him, lit up with sunlight. Renji looked up at the clouds and blinked confusedly. Why was he sleeping outside?

He suddenly remembered the previous night and sat bolt upright, looking about him in panic. The tree…! 

To Renji’s dismay, when he looked to the magical tree, he found that all the fruits were gone, not even one spared… His heart sank in dread and disappointment.  
  
As his shoulders slumped and his head bowed, a sudden glint of sunlight caught his eye, and he glanced to the side on the ground.

Just near his hand, lying in the grass, was a single golden apple.


	3. Chapter 3

_Once upon a time, long ago, there was a vast country, in the center of which lay a mountain called the Juureichi. On the top of the mountain was a shrine to the gods; this was where the great spirits lived._

_The spirits resided on the mountain and in the surrounding woodland, listening to the cries of the children who were brought to their shrines_ _–_ _but of course, more mischievous beings often came down to play with humans. Around the base of the mountain was a lush peaceful forest where many strange things happened. This was the Junrinan._

_To the North of the mountain was the country of Zaraki, a military state ruled by the strongest warrior in the world. To the West lay the Hokutan, which held endless rice fields and the splendid Kuchiki Manor, and beneath it, the Fugai, the mysterious swampland where science had replaced magic. To the South, the Rukongai, there was nothing but endless wastelands and vicious gangs._

_And in the East, this was the place the spirits liked to come down from the mountain and live among mortals. This was the place magic survived outside the Junrinan. Speckled with small kingdoms and villages, the people of the East lived in peace and happiness with the fair folk, blessed with good fortune and pleasant climate._

_While those in the North and West looked on the East with distrust or curiosity, countless Rukonjin hoping to escape poverty risked their lives trying to cross the border to find a better life in that land of prosperity._

_For after all, the sun rises in the East._

 

_. . ._

 

Ikkaku woke early on the rocky ground of the wilderness, deep in the footills of the brigand countryside, and even as he sat up and cracked his back and yawned, he still felt residual excitement.

Days prior, a letter had returned from the Fugai. His princess had accepted their engagement.

All that was left was that he win her favor when his family went to visit hers. Ikkaku didn’t have a solid plan yet, and had no experience in courting a beautiful lady, but he was sure he’d charm her by barrelling through this the same way he did everything else.

Just like his demure and terrifying mother loved his rough and noisy father. There had to be more than one woman who could love a man like that! If Princess Nemu could learn to love him, Ikkaku was sure that he could learn to love her dark and gloomy homeland in return.

On his time fooling around in the foothills along Zaraki’s eastern border, Ikkaku thought on his challenge. He was always welcomed warmly in the brigand camps, and whenever he visited, he enjoyed long nights carousing and wrestling and hunting with the bands of wild men who lived out here. This time though, was likely to be the last, and was more of a business trip: a treasure hunt.

Ikkaku had considered the way his father met his mother, and was sure he could not woo Lady Nemu in the same way.

His parents had met when his father had been in mid-teens, a few years junior to his mother. They’d fought on their first meeting. Ikkaku didn’t know all the details, but he knew that his mother had disappeared for years on end, and his father, on assuming that she had died, had fallen into boredom and depression. He’d wandered for many years, wild and crazed with loneliness, and when at last they’d met again, they’d fought once more.

It was a battle for the ages, put into many tapestries around the castle that Ikkaku had grown up seeing. As a child, he’d idealized his parents’ fight much more than he did now, because as he’d aged, he realized how terrible a price his father had paid to become Kempachi.

Of course his parents were happy together now as the Kempachi and the Empress, but long story short, Ikkaku could not take advice from his parents on courtship. He would have to do this on his own.

Ikkaku sat up and walked towards the place where the horses were tied up, ignoring the few warriors who were awake and sitting blearily about a small fire, nursing hangovers, and of course, the few who were still asleep on the ground in various states of undress.

He rummaged in the side-pack of his horse’s saddle, and took out the gift he’d chosen for his lady love.

He’d won this piece of jewelry during his time in the brigand camps, perfect for Lady Nemu. It had been too late on their ride home last night, but now fully alert, Ikkaku wrapped the jewelry up in a piece of paper and took it to have it appraised.

He was directed to the tent of an old woman, as he came in and sat down before her, telling her what he needed and holding out the package to her shaky frail hands, he waited eagerly as she looked it over for a long time with thick eyeglasses and different tools.

She handed it back to him, informing him that this item was once magical. “It was?” Ikkaku asked in awe, gazing from her wrinkled face to his hands where he cradled the glittering piece of jewelry.

“Go on and open it up, my boy,” she told him with her old croaky voice, and Ikkaku did, carefully laying the necklace out across his palms, black shimmering metal set with large dark red stones, perfect to grace his Princess’s chest.

He opened up the center jewel on a delicate hinge, finding an old folded piece of paper. He rested the amulet on his leg and took the note out, opening it up and reading slowly, “To Rondal – when you carry this, you carry my heart. Love always, Marta.” He looked up into the old woman’s face. “This is a lover’s locket?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “The perfect wedding present, young man.”

“What a lucky find! Thank you, ma’am!” Ikkaku stood, having to stoop to keep from knocking his head on the tent ceiling, and then left.

“Fare thee well, my son,” she called after him.

He returned to his men and kicked a few awake on his way back to his horse. “Move out.”

He cast a fond eye to the boulders and fields of the foothills as they traveled home. In his younger years, he’d had barrels of fun out here, feeling free to brawl and listen to stories, and of course, enjoy lots of drinking and merrymaking. Although the wild men of the countryside were still his father’s people, he didn’t feel he had to keep up appearances as much, he felt he could be one of them. It was sad to think this might be the last time, as he had to start really being serious about his responsibilities. Soon he would be married, and could not go off for a boy’s night – or weekend – whenever his wanderlust got the best of him.

He’d found what he’d looked for though, and as they rode home, he thought on his luck and gazed up at the mountain that loomed on their left as they journeyed. The Juureichi. He and his parents had traveled out to the Junrinan just a few months prior, as they did every year on the day he was born.

Despite the general distrust of magic and the fae folk of the mountain that seemed to thrive in the West, there was a long history of devoting babies unto spirit shrines along or within the Junrinan. Even his father, who was kind of stuck in his ways and had a grudge against Easterners, believed in doing that kind of thing.

Ikkaku had been born on the turning of the year of the dragon, and had been given unto a spirit of great power. With his mother’s condition, his parents had needed the help of magic to conceive him, and had devoted him unto an ancient spirit in gratitude. Every year, they took Ikkaku back to the foot of the mountain to a shrine to thank the spirit who watched over him, and every year after he’d visited the mountain, he grew in strength and skill.

However, being born of magic and being granted good fortune by a spirit of such power had its prices.

After one full twelve-year cycle of the calendar, Ikkaku had awoken on his twelfth birthday with his shiny black hair falling out in great clumps, and as he’d looked in the mirror, his eyes had slanted and narrowed drastically. That had been the end of looking like his parents’ child.

Although he’d of course been in considerable distress for a time – who wouldn’t be when they woke up in their fragile preteen years to suddenly become a lizard-boy – he’d been lead to realize that this was a token of favor and that he was being granted good fortune for another twelve years in exchange for such a small discomfort as this. This spirit approved of his soul’s passion or saw some other sort of quality within him worth rewarding, and would do so again if he used the next twelve years well.

True enough, Ikkaku’s combat skills had taken a great leap that year, and every year after.

He’d gone on in this way until at last it had been the morrow of his twenty-fourth birthday, the night before he’d be recognized as of age by his country’s laws, and there was not much else his mother or father could teach him. That night, the Kempachi had taken him through their castle, all across the rugged countryside, and had told him the responsibilities that came with the life he’d been born to, that he had to strive for greatness.

Ikkaku had been preparing for this all his life, training, studying, but he hadn’t asked for it, he hadn’t chosen it, and it had always seemed – maybe even only in the back of his mind – as a nuisance, however small.

His father told him about the setbacks, that being king meant putting your life beneath every one else’s, not above, that it meant thinking of your people always before yourself. It may mean being wed to someone he did not love, that he could not indulge in pleasures of the flesh frivolously to keep the line of their family.

Ikkaku had not seen a nuisance that night. He’d seen nothing but the beauty of his country, and he had nothing but love for the rough and tumble people who lived in it. He believed any burden to be worth it for the sake of this place and these people.

In the morn he’d woken with red eyelids and the grin of a shark.

Ikkaku was determined to live up to the greatness of his name, his family, his country, and now to his future wife.

The prince returned home from the foothills and handed his horse off to Renji, who was waiting there at the gates for them with some other young boys.

“Ah, my prince,” he greeted. Ikkaku dismounted and walked off to stretch his legs after the long ride, unhooking his extra gear and handing it off to Renji, who was following at his side, buzzing around him like an insect.

He was lost in his head as Renji trailed behind him and tried several times to politely get his attention and tell him something about some garden or other, but in his distraction, Ikkaku ignored him for some time.

“My prince, I do not know what is appropriate that I do,” Renji rambled when Ikkaku had not scolded him immediately to be quiet and go away. “I feel I have done a great shame to the family, sir, but I must speak, mustn’t I, no matter what might become of me despite my failings- It’s just, what I saw when I was in the garden-”

This caught Ikkaku’s attention a bit, and at last, he became irritated and snapped, “Ah? In the garden?” Renji stood at attention, jaw clenched. “What were you doing there?” Ikkaku wondered with his brow furrowed.

“Away with you,” Hisagi hissed at his elbow, which was rather annoying, as Ikkaku hadn't even noticed he was there on his other side. Ikkaku always felt like the Captain followed him around unnecessarily and interrupted his conversations. “How dare you pester his majesty with-”

Ikkaku held out a hand to silence him, and turned his full attention on Renji, who seemed to shrink back, glancing between the two of them rapidly. “Well? Out with it, what did you see,” Ikkaku demanded.

Renji gaped for a moment and couldn’t find the words. Ikkaku barely suppressed a sigh. Simple minds always clammed up under pressure. “Come now, are you going to speak?” he barked.

Renji ducked his head a bit, and told him so lowly that Ikkaku could barely hear through his mumbling, “My prince, with respect, it concerns something the Kempachi wishes to keep private.”

“And you’re involved.”

“Yessir,” Renji nodded, curling his hands in and out of fists with a sense of urgency.

Ikkaku considered this. “Mm,” he hummed at last. “Fine.”

He bluntly waved Hisagi off and stomped with Renji towards the stable where they could be alone. Renji kept glancing back with what seemed like dread. Ikkaku turned around once with narrowed eyes. What the hell did he keep looking at? All he saw back there was Captain Hisagi looking towards them with a sour face.

“Well, what’s going on,” Ikkaku asked once they were in the long barn, surrounded by the smell of hay and animals and leather riding gear. 

“Ah, well, the Kempachi wanted to speak with you,” Renji began, voice still hushed even though they were alone now.

Ikkaku straightened up dismissively. He didn’t know why servants had to act so dramatic about silly things. Why couldn’t he have told him that out there, huh? “Oh this? It’s alright, I’ve already heard.”

“You have, M’lord?” Renji repeated in surprise. “Excuse me,” he apologized.

“I’ve met her before,” Ikkaku informed, then smiling in anticipation and sharing, perhaps too openly, “You’ll love her at first sight, she’s so sweet and lovely, Renji.” He took his sword off his belt and handed it to Renji, who held it and stared with his mouth open.

“What a lucky man I am!” Ikkaku continued, hands on his hips. “I wonder what Mother thinks of it,” he considered, then put a hand to his mouth. “Speaking of, I haven’t see her in a while.”

“Ah, Sir, pardon me,” Renji interrupted then, drawing Ikkaku’s gaze. “The Kempachi has something else to tell you.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the matter?” Ikkaku inquired. Renji adjusted his sword in his arms, holding it properly.

“He’s been quite upset.” Ikkaku’s mouth drew in a tight grimace. Renji’s nervousness made a bit more sense now. His father scared pretty much everybody.

“Oh,” he said sullenly.

“Very upset, actually,” Renji stressed.

“I see,” Ikkaku hummed as things began to come together. “And is it to do with your time in the garden?”

“Ah… yes, M’lord, you could say that,” Renji said, licking his lips and shifting uncomfortably.

Ikkaku waved it off unconcernedly when he got the gist of it. “Leave it to me,” he said, “Where is he now?”

“He’s waiting in the south yard, Sir,” Renji informed, somehow not seeming comforted that he was going to handle things, still gaping at him with that stupid expression.

“Right.”

Renji cleared his throat and set the sword down on a polishing table, and then went into a supply closet in the stable and rummaged through some things. “Sir, I have this…” Renji quickly took something out and handed it to him, “Please take this with you, Prince Ikkaku.”

They both held it for a moment, and Ikkaku looked down at the golden apple in his hand as Renji let go, and then gave Renji a long suspicious frown. Ikkaku opened his mouth to speak.

“Stable boy,” called Captain Hisagi, distracting them. “Come,” he beckoned, pointing to his muddy boots and glaring at the two of them sourly. Ikkaku moved the apple out of sight, glaring back, and glanced to Renji as he swallowed and scurried away.

Ikkaku sauntered off to find the Kempachi steaming at the ears, just as Renji had said. In light of this… situation – he looked down at the apple and then shoved it in his pocket – he didn’t know if it would be as easy to get his father to spare Renji any harsh punishment as he'd thought, but he’d see to that if he could.

Seeing his father pacing angrily, Ikkaku called, “Oi, where’s Mom?” brows pulled down.

“There you are, lazy good-for-nothing son of mine,” the king snapped. “Done fooling about the countryside?”

Ikkaku scowled. “Renji said you were in a mood.”

Kenpachi grunted and continued storming about in a rage. Ikkaku drew closer with a harrowed sigh. “I hope you don’t plan on punishing him too cruelly.”

“Never mind that for now,” his father ignored, turning his attention on him and coming to the point of their meeting. “I want you ta’ do something tonight.”

“Yes Kempachi?” Ikkaku stood taller. Anything his father put him in charge of, he treated with the utmost seriousness.

“I want you ta’ go down in the courtyard tonight where the tree is, and see what the fuck’s going on with it,” his father told him, voice low and dark.

Ikkaku furrowed his brow, attention instantly sharpening. “Why, what’s the matter with it?”

He knew which tree his father meant without needing clarification. It was the namesake of their country, Zaraki, the very first tree planted by the man who’d led their ancestors here to make a new home, the one magical being his father hadn’t purged from the North.

It was down in his mother’s garden; it flowered and grew new fruit to the perfect ripeness every night, and was guarded by a great serpent which was coiled up at the base. Ikkaku had caught sight of the tree only a few times as a very young boy, playing in the flowers and the beautifully tended grass with his mother nearby.

“The fruit’s been disappearing.”

Ice plunged through Ikkaku’s veins. His face must have done something similar, because at the sight of him, his father seemed to blanch as well, his voice growing hoarse. “I dunno’ where the fuck it’s been going.”

“What about the dragon?” Ikkaku heard himself say, rasping in panic.

“Snakes don’t eat fruit.”

“Mm,” he muttered. “How long’s this been happening?”

His father told him about the servants he’d sent to guard the apple tree, all of whom had failed, and Ikkaku’s eyes darted about.

This wasn't just a problem of a particularly nasty and clever thief, and he understood immediately why he hadn’t seen his mother in as long as this now. The Kempachi had probably insisted that she rest indoors for her health.

You see, when his parents had fought and his father had taken the title of Kempachi from his mother all those years ago, he hadn’t just beaten her. He’d killed her.

Having fallen in love, not wishing to say goodbye to the only person who’d ever been a worthy opponent, he’d revived her with a magical golden apple. To stop death’s hands, she needed to eat one every day.

Immediately understanding how grave the situation was, Ikkaku demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He put his head in his hands, god, why had he gone out over the weekend when he should have been here, helping? Why has he been so selfish?

“It wasn’t your concern.”

“Yes it is!” he shouted.

Of course, this only made the Kempachi shout back with greater ferocity. “I’d mentioned it, but you’ve been too busy mooning to pay any attention!”

Ikkaku pressed his palms to his temples, pacing a bit, head spinning. “Where’re Aramaki and Iba now? What can they tell me?” he asked, thinking fast.

“They fell asleep before seeing anything,” Kenpachi grunted angrily. “I dunno’ what to do other than go myself, but your mother’s asked me to stay with her.”

“In case it’s her last night,” Ikkaku grit out, enraged. He can’t even think about it, losing his mother, that sweet memory of bouncing around her and pulling his hands through her long unbound hair, shining in the sun of the garden.

“It’s troubling,” his father agreed.

“An’ you want me to try,” Ikkaku confirmed, calming as he got a hold of what was at stake, what he’d have to do.

“I wouldn’t have asked,” Kenpachi grunted, sighing. “I’ve grown so desperate that I’ve even let that boy, Abarai, try last night.”

“Renji?” Ikkaku stopped, as if struck by lightning, and suddenly took the apple out of his pocket in amazement. They both stood still and looked at it. “Wh-”

“Where did you get that?” Kenpachi wondered, bewildered and exasperated.

“He gave it to me just as I got back this morning!” Ikkaku said quickly, thoughts racing. He’d thought Renji was worried he’d get in trouble for stealing, but really he’d- he’d somehow been able to-

“Who did.”

“Renji!”

“He was able to get one, you mean?” They both stopped for a long moment and looked at it again in disturbed silence, wondering how on earth, when the others had failed…

“I guess he was,” Ikkaku murmured. His father recovered sooner than he had, putting things together more quickly.

“He saw the thief,” he realized, looking around as if to make off for him right then. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“Ah, with Hisagi when I last saw him,” Ikkaku remembered, still just blown away and puzzled, unable to wrap his mind around it, that Renji, so lowly and simple, had done what so many could not?

His father stood for a moment considering this with him, and at last said, “... I’m impressed.” Ikkaku snorted and nodded in agreement. “You know how long he begged so that I’d give him a chance to try?” Kenpachi shook his head with a rough sigh. “I was sure he didn’t come to me this mornin’a’ tell me what happened because he’d failed an’ was ashamed.” He snorted with a small smirk. “Tch’. Lil’ bugger.”

Ikkaku stood in silence. He’d thought for sure this whole time that Renji’s nervousness had meant he’d gone and stolen something and was awaiting retribution. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might’ve done something so fine, so good for his family and country.

“I’d like to know how he did it, but I must get back to your mother for now,” King Kenpachi told him. “Tonight, go to the courtyard, an’ take that boy with you.”

“Right,” Ikkaku obeyed. “I will.”

“Give that to me.” His father took the apple. “See that he’s rewarded. Have him tell you everything he saw and what he did to be able to get this.”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku said dazedly, thinking hard.

“And if you two’re able to do it again, let me know what needs to be done,” he said gravely.

“Yes Kempachi.”

“An’ I warn you, boy, keep a cool head,” his father reminded knowingly, pointing a finger in his face. Ikkaku grimaced and pouted his lip out, but bowed his head in deference. “If you see this person, don’t lose your temper. I want to know who it is,” Kenpachi said.

“Watch what they do and report back, an’ we’ll decide what to do then.”

“Yes Father,” Ikkaku agreed softly. Kenpachi clapped a hand to his shoulder, before taking his leave.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Once upon a time, there were two ancient spirits of the mountain. For centuries, they would shine favor on babes brought to their shrines, or particularly exemplary children with great heart or unbreakable fighting spirit. While the two of them lived in harmony in the Juureichi for ages on end, alike as they were, there was one difference between them._

_While one's heart had been soured by grief and had since turned his back on the mortals, the other was not content to adore his children from afar._

_The other loved to come down from the mountain and play._

 

_…_

Ikkaku had Renji tell him all about the visit in the garden – had him go through the details of the whole night several times through.

When he asked why Renji hadn't said all of that before when they'd been in the stable, Renji seemed embarrassed, as if he didn't know how to answer, and Ikkaku felt responsible for railroading him.

A little embarrassed himself – not that a prince could ever admit to feeling embarrassment – Ikkaku asked sullenly, "Anything else you ought to tell me?"

"No, M'lord," Renji mumbled, staring at his toes, but seeming to squirm happily nonetheless, as he had been since the moment Ikkaku had told him he would accompany him on this important mission to catch sight of the apple thief.

"Birds, huh?" Ikkaku considered, knuckles on his chin.

"Yes," Renji said, brightening up as the subject turned to the birds, his face and eyes seeming to gleam with excitement. "Beautiful-" he tried, words failing him, "Golden peahens."

"Mm," Ikkaku acknowledged. Well, he'd admit it sounded crazy, but Renji was the only one who'd gotten any results, so they might as well give it a try…

Ikkaku went into the courtyard that night with Renji accompanying him. He hadn't been in his mother's garden in so long, and for a time, they just walked through the trees in silence, admiring the foliage even in the darkness. At last, Renji showed him the place he had spied the peahens, and the two of them sat there for a long time on the edge of the shadows.

Impatient, Prince Ikkaku grew restless after not more than an hour or two, repeatedly asking if it was time yet. Renji just calmly said, "They'll come, M'lord," although each time, it became a little less calm, as he seemed to worry that perhaps they would  _not_  come. Still, the two of them sat and watched with a sharp unwavering vigilance.

When things started happening, it grew less difficult to keep himself occupied. Ikkaku watched with parted lips as the tree flowered and grew fruit. ". . . Beautiful," he whispered, eyes glassy at the sight. Renji nodded at his side.

Everything happened just as Renji had described, as he had said they would, the peahens came.

They watched together, hardly breathing as the peahens rifled the tree and ate the fruits. Ikkaku's brow creased in thought as the serpent lay its head at the peacock's feet as it sang. He listened to the song with an uneasy feeling in his chest. It seemed to go on for ages.

Finally, the peacock gave a trill and the peahens flew away. Ikkaku startled, as if coming out of a trance. He'd sat there listening for so long that he'd hardly noticed the sun starting to come up. He turned to ask Renji what he thought of it all, and found him lying asleep on the grass next to him.

He huffed lightly through his nose with a smile, and then stood. It was morning, just about.

At his movement, Renji startled awake with a snort, looking about in panicked bewilderment. He looked up at Ikkaku and quickly stood. "Did they come, Prince Ikkaku?"

"They did."

The two of them came and sat in the same manner for three nights, watching the birds eat the fruit. On the third night, Ikkaku at last could not contain his curiosity.

He waited for the peacock to begin its song, and then crept forward as it walked through the grass. He stepped out into the golden light of the clearing, feeling warm, the same as if the sun were shining on his skin at noon.

He managed to creep incredibly close to the peacock's train, close enough to touch in fact. Ikkaku reached out and latched onto a feather of the peacock's tail, but the moment he did, the song stopped.

The dragon reared up with a snarl and the birds scattered – off they flew, and Ikkaku scrambled back as the dragon snapped at his legs and charged him as far as its coiled body would allow without it leaving the tree.

Renji had awoken in the commotion and as Ikkaku barrelled back into the dark haven of the trees, they stood and stared at each other in horror for a moment. "What happened?" Renji whispered, aghast.

"Scared 'em away," Ikkaku rasped.

He spent the day terrified that the peahens would not come back, and to his utter dismay, they didn't.

However, that was just a mere disappointment. What was truly alarming was that along with the peahens departure, neither did the apples grow. Ikkaku was coming to realize that he'd been very very foolish.

That was when he went to his father and told him all that they'd seen in the past nights. He brought him the silver feather.

King Kenpachi took one look at it and looked very grave. "Fae," was all he said, and Ikkaku's heart bled with shame and despair.

"I've been foolish," he muttered. "For my offense, the tree's been blighted. It… it didn't grow last night. The fruit," he rasped, unable to look his father in the face for shame and fear at what he'd done. "If it doesn't grow again…" He lifted his head and said desperately, "You can't have much saved up-"

"There's enough fruit that will last a little over a month," Kenpachi told him sternly, his teeth set.

"What do we do after that?!" Ikkaku howled, unable to bear what he'd done, the fate that would befall his mother because of him.

"You don't worry about that."

"You mean, you don't know," Ikkaku grit out, upset to the point of talking back.

"You wanna' say that again?" his father snapped, eyes flashing.

"No," Ikkaku whispered, lowering his eyes bitterly. "Of course not, Kempachi."

With a hard line to his jaw and a nerve pinching in his forehead, the king said steadily, "Doubt is unacceptable," causing Ikkaku to stand ramrod straight and draw in his toes, feeling as a little boy again, being scolded, or a soldier having suffered defeat and allowed the death of his comrades.

"You know what happens should you fail." He did. That was what he dreaded most of all.

He bowed shortly and promised, "I won't let you down."

Ikkaku spent every night after in the garden, and every night after, the peahens didn't appear, nor did the tree flower. Renji stopped accompanying him after a week went by with no results, and after two weeks, still the apples would not grow.

By one month, the Kempachi was in a despairing rage at his wife's approaching death, but Ikkaku would not give up hope that the peahens might come back. His luck would see them through, if he just had faith in it.

He felt at his eyelids and smoothed a hand over his scalp and folded his legs. He sat with his back to a tree trunk and breathed in and out and faced the Juureichi. His soul was as old and unbreakable as the mountain, and he would not doubt.

It was out of his hands, in any case. Either the birds would come back, or they wouldn't, and then his mother…

But he can't accept that. He can't believe that might happen. Failure was unacceptable. That was the way of the North.

Finally, on the night of the full moon, the thirty-fourth day since the incident, the birds returned. Ikkaku at first thought he was seeing things, so desperate that he had imagined it all, but sure enough, the peahens flew through the yard and landed in the grass, not far from the tree.

However, the peacock was nowhere in sight.

Troubled by this, Ikkaku frowned and crawled onto his knees, peering closer but not daring to cross the line of shadow this time, lest he frighten them away for good.

It was quite a problem that the peacock was gone. He was sure that if his father was right and these birds really were fae, the peacock was the one he'd offended or frightened off. He'd taken a feather. It would have to come back, wouldn't it? To retrieve its belongings?

Or would Ikkaku have to return it to the fae and apologize? He still had it, carefully preserved between the pages of a book in his room, then wrapped in paper and brought down to the garden each night with him. He would give it back in a trice if it meant the apples would grow once more and save his poor mother.

To his amazement, with a sudden start, Ikkaku noticed that atop the serpent, within its coils, there was a person lounging comfortably and stroking its head, a gleaming silver ball held idly in their other hand.

They were wearing a haori befitting royalty, long and luxurious and beautifully colorful, shimmering a deep azure and emerald, like paint mixed in water, rich colors that melted and melded together in the changing light.

Ikkaku didn't know what he thought at that moment, whether he was about to fall prostrate in the dirt and beg forgiveness for his mistake, or to shout at them that they'd better not do that again or his mother will die.

However, this  _person_  spied him before he could manage to say anything. They turned their face towards him and he didn't know what he saw, he couldn't make out any features, or if he had, he had no remembrance of them. What he did remember was long sleek hair, dark and unbound, crested with orange feathers down the center of their head, and glowing eyes that shimmer and shine coldly like two beams of moonlight.

When that gaze met his, not a moment passed before Ikkaku found himself lying on his back in the grass and the sky was blue with the day.

He sat up confusedly to find that once again, there was no fruit anywhere on the tree, just as the day before. He looked down at his hands and thought that he might have dreamed the whole thing.

He might have. Except the silver feather was gone.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

_At the appointed hour, the prince went out and made his bed beneath the tree. When the moon rose high in the sky, the magical apples grew and illuminated the yard._

_As soon as the fruits ripened, the nine peahens came, and who should appear but a beautiful damsel that shone with beauty beyond compare._

_His young heart could not resist._

  
...  


Ikkaku thought to tell his father what he'd thought he'd seen, but decided that the Kempachi might lose it and go on a rampage if he was given false hope only for the queen to die after all.

The past few days have been particularly hard. The nights were spent in endless disappointment when the apples did not grow, and the days were spent dragging himself about the castle, moods cycling from despair to rage, back to despair.

Ikkaku has lived in this place his entire life, and has grown up with violence and death. By fifteen, he'd had almost as many military victories against the raiders of the North Sea under his belt as his father had at his age, and by twenty years, he'd been permitted to lead their men into battle under his father's guidance. He was an excellent tactician, skilled with a variety of weapons, and put the good of their people before his own desires – he was every bit the prince that they could have hoped for aside from his hotheaded and stubborn tendencies, to be honest, even traits such as those were viewed fairly favorably, given they were a warrior state.

And now, at twenty-four, he was a man. The ensuing months of Ikkaku's first year as an adult were largely spent overseeing the repair and partial reconstruction of their home. It distracted him from his plight somewhat to walk through the halls now and see how things were going.

When the first Kempachi had begun here so very long ago, it had been little more than a military fortification built of stone and logs, but over the years, several bastions had been added on, a massive underground cellar dug out, and miles and miles of impenetrable turreted walls erected around surrounding villages. The parts that had been put up since Ikkaku had been born were brick and mortar, but the older windworn stones had grown weaker in some places and needed to be rebuilt.

Having grown up within these walls, Ikkaku was used to the sea air, the cold grey stone of the walls and floors. The only softness in his life came from the grass outside, or animal skins, his mother's touch. He loved this place. He loved his family. He can't let his country down, let his family down.

He cannot let his mother die. He cannot accept that he'd sentenced his mother to death on account of his own foolishness.

The feather was gone, and Ikkaku didn't know what would happen next, but he determinedly visited the garden again to try to see the peahens one more time. Just as the night before, in what he'd thought could have been a dream, the birds came.

This time, the peacock was here. Ikkaku stood in plain sight, right at the edge of the shadows, ready to swallow his pride and apologize on bended knee for his wrongs. He would throw away his dignity like garbage if only his family were safe, if only his mother might live.

As he watched the peacock land, it strutted for a bit. He moved deliberately, trying to get a bit closer, and slowly moved out into the clearing. The birds did not startle this time, although they did wring their heads around at him and give him beady curious stares, they didn't pay him much other attention.

Slowly, he sat down on the ground in the sun and watched the peacock walk about and sing, coming close to him, so close. It walked right past him, its long tail dragging through the green-gold grass. Ikkaku watched in amazement, a small smile even crossing his lips as its silver train brushed past his fingers.

It made its way up the mound where the tree grew, and at last, began to puff itself up. At first Ikkaku thought with dismay that it was about to fly away, but to his surprise, it spread its tail open, and in a sudden glow of silver light, the bird changed and became a beautiful otherwordly silhouette, silver and glittering, lingering somewhat behind the trunk of the tree.

Before he knew it, he found that he'd gotten to his feet and was reaching out a hand in wonder towards the terrifying and beautiful thing that was watching him.

The bright light began to die, and Ikkaku struggled to make sense of what he was looking at… A person.

The silver gleam faded away, but there was still a pearlescent glow to the skin, just barely a sheen left, and there they were. The peacock had become a damsel in a white yukata, who shone with beauty like a bright sun.

Ikkaku put a foot back in sudden realization. Ahh, no, this was not a damsel – why would a peacock become a damsel? Ikkaku didn't know  _what_  it was. It certainly wasn't the same person he'd thought he'd seen before in his dream last night, rather more plain and simple by comparison, but still an extraordinary and mysterious beauty.

Ikkaku stared in wonder for a long time as they moved, proving they were not a statue or an apparition, but a person standing there before him. He gaped silently even as they shyly tilted their head and curled dark hair behind their ear, peering out at him from behind the tree. He should say something. Ikkaku thought wildly of what to do.

He… he didn't know what to say.

"You're a bird," he finally said stupidly.

And the beautiful one's face became even more beautiful as it lit up in laughter. Ikkaku didn't know why, but he smiled back, feeling light-headed and near hysterical. "I'm Yumichika," he said, in a voice like music.

"Oh," was all Ikkaku could manage, gaping and struck dumb. "I…" He cleared his throat sharply and straightened a bit.

"I'm the son of the Kempachi, Prince Ikkaku," he said, remembering himself.

"Should I bow?" Yumichika asked with an amused glint in his eyes.

"N-no, hehh, you don't have to do that!" Ikkaku laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling out of his element, feeling  _clumsy._ He'd never really felt like that before.

He was starting to realize how he might make other people feel with his aloof unconcerned attitude when his attendants tried to talk to him, because Yumichika didn't pay him much attention as he talked, thoroughly distracted and hardly listening, preoccupied with selecting the ripest apples from about the bustling golden birds rifling the branches.

"Uh, listen… so… my-my mom-" Ikkaku began uncertainly, wondering for the first time if he'd grown up too spoiled to know how to deal with others. He can't remember any other person besides his two parents that had the upper hand over him. Yumichika, as unassuming as he appeared, certainly had several hands over him. The point was, Ikkaku didn't know how to  _talk_  to someone who was his superior but also wasn't his parents.

He was almost certainly a fae, and was really pretty, and Ikkaku somehow didn't want to get on his bad side, didn't want to barrel through this with the same bluntness he did everything else.

He's never met a fae before.

"Well, these apples are magical." He shook his head, smiling almost guiltily, which made no sense, considering he wasn't the one in the wrong here. "I mean, I'm sure you know, that's probably why you come here, but-" he explained badly, "she, she needs them to live, so…" Yumichika raised an eyebrow, which was the only indication that he was listening at all, having almost fully turned away from him as he examined the golden branches.

"Well, you're in my family's garden, and you're kind of trespassing. And stealing?" Ikkaku said, watching as Yumichika plucked an apple and took a loud pointed bite, glancing towards him. "Uhhh."

He's never tiptoed around something this much in his life, but for some reason, even Yumichika's blatant disregard for his title and his property didn't irk him. In fact, it was somehow... charming?

"So… could you… stop?" he asked hopefully, smiling a bit and clenching his hands.

"I've been visiting a friend," was all Yumichika replied after chewing for a long time and licking his lips, not really answering his question at all.

"Who?" Ikkaku wondered blankly. "... Oh!" he realized, and Yumichika gave a small quirk of his lip, soft lashes fluttering down as he squatted to scratch the dragon as the peahens trilled and chirped. Ikkaku swallowed as it shifted its great spiny head, doing nothing more than growling sleepily and nuzzling Yumichika's bare shin.

"Well, you don't have to leave, that's not what I meant," Ikkaku laughed nervously, "I just mean, please don't… keep ransacking our prized possession?" Yumichika considered this in silence for a few moments, taking another bite of the apple without breaking eye contact, which made Ikkaku gulp hard.

"Will you stop me if I say no?"

Hurt a fae? Ikkaku gaped helplessly for a moment but considered, lips pressed together. "I guess I'd have to," he said, but smiled after. "But I'm sure we can work things out without it coming to that." See, he could do diplomacy.

Yumichika smiled, eyes lowered, and Ikkaku's heart swelled with hope. The two of them sat in the grass and talked together while the peahens ransacked the tree until the dawn came.

Yumichika at last finished his apple and stood. Ikkaku looked up, butt planted on the lawn. "Thank you, Ikkaku. That was delicious."

For a moment struck with the knowledge that he can't remember the last time he's been called plainly by his name like that, Ikkaku realized what Yumichika meant. He was leaving now.

Quickly he asked, "Could you leave just one behind? The queen, my mother, seriously needs these."

Yumichika smiled wordlessly, and plucked one last apple from beyond the hungry beak of a golden peahen, holding it out to him. Ikkaku smiled and accepted it thoughtlessly, taking it into his hands. He only later realized his father's endless warnings that fae are nasty, never accept anything from them, never  _apologize_  to them. But he didn't care when he remembered, because Yumichika wasn't nasty at all. He was friendly and clever and  _beautiful_.

He watched as Yumichika transformed back into a bird and flew away, followed by the eight peahens. "Bye," he said dazedly, hand raised.

He felt all… weird inside. Excited maybe.

Ikkaku showed the apple to his father, who was amazed that the tree was growing apples again. More to the point, he demanded, "You met the creature?"

"I did," Ikkaku admitted.

"Ought we ta' trap it?"

"No!" he blurted, then cleared his throat. "I mean… let me handle it, Kempachi." His father gave him a long assessing look, under which Ikkaku squirmed, but did not waver.

"Do what you will," he said at last.

That evening, when Renji was called to his room, Ikkaku told him what happened, intending to go back again to talk with Yumichika some more. He'd never met a more enchanting person. In fact, it felt like he'd met him before, somehow.

In his excitement, he even invited Renji to come along with him, to which Renji replied uncertainly, "Shouldn't I prepare for your journey to the Princess, M'lord?"

"Oh," Ikkaku said, spirits dampening somewhat as he remembered. "Right." That was tomorrow, wasn't it. He'd forgotten all about it for a minute there.

He supposed that now that there would be some apples left for his mother each night, his father would come with him to oversee the negotiations concerning their engagement as originally planned. While he met and got acquainted with Princess Nemu, their fathers would discuss things like exchange of cattle and other such nonsense – god, their parents were old. Who paid dowries in cattle in this age?

He should probably get ready for tomorrow too. He was going to journey to meet his bride. He's going to meet the woman who he hoped would agree to be his wife, his queen.

There we go, the excitement was coming back.

"Right, right, right," Ikkaku said quickly, ticking off on his fingers, "Sharpen my sword, polish my boots, and here," he stepped around in a circle like a chicken with its head chopped off before he gathered himself, remembering where he'd put it. "I want you to take care of this too. Come look."

He pulled a drawer out of his bureau and took out a large piece of wrapped paper, opening it up to show Renji the piece of jewelry he'd gotten from the brigands. "I've got this for her," he showed excitedly, waiting as Renji crowded against him hesitantly and peered into his hands at the ornate necklace.

"Oh…" Renji breathed, eyes round. Ikkaku grinned widely.

"The lady I had appraise it said it was magic once!"

"Prince Ikkaku, it's beautiful," he said slowly, marveling at it. Ikkaku held it out to him.

"Feel it, go ahead," he invited. Renji bowed his head for a second and then picked it up cautiously, weighing the heavy stones in his hand and holding them up to the light.

"It's perfect for a lady to wear, my prince."

Ikkaku nodded his head. "I want you to make this really sparkle," he said. "So she can see her face in it."

"Yes, sir," Renji obeyed, a smile building on his face as he placed it back in the paper and folded it up, holding it reverently. "If I may say so, I wish you every good fortune in your meeting with the Princess, M'lord."

Ikkaku, who'd begun rifling through his drawers to look at his day clothes – which ones were good for riding through the swamp? – popped his head back up with a frown. "What are you talking about, you'll be there too." He turned back and threw his closet doors open, walking in. "You're traveling in the convoy after all," he called back, hearing Renji follow a few moments later.

"I am to remain here, my prince," Renji said quietly, starting to do that mumbling thing. Ikkaku glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowed.

"I've told you you're coming, haven't I? And so you are," he said, putting his hands on his hips. Renji's lips were tightly pressed together, and Ikkaku tried to lessen his scowling.

 _'Less intimidating,'_  he remembered, _'Don't railroad him.'_

"... Well," he prompted after making an effort to calm his voice into something less authoritative. "Say what's on your mind."

Renji shifted from foot to foot for a few moments, still gripping the package in his hands. "To have my accompaniment," he said quietly, eyes lowered, "It's only… undignified and unnecessary."

He said it in such a recited way that it had to have been told to him for him to rattle it off like that. "My god, who's put such a thing in your head!" Ikkaku scolded, at which Renji just seemed to hunch in on himself more. "And who told you to stay here when I said you're to come along!" Renji didn't respond, which was just as well, because Ikkaku didn't much care who'd said so. It was his order against theirs after all, unless it was the Kempachi or his mother of course.

"The Kempachi?"

"No, my prince."

"Then who?" Ikkaku demanded, but Renji went tight-lipped and fidgety.

". . ."

"Uuugh," Ikkaku groaned. "Nevermind. I say I need you as moral support when I meet the Lady Nemu," he said firmly. "Now polish that, and be prepared to travel tomorrow," he ordered, lip lifting in a smile when Renji raised his eyes at last. "And don't disappoint me."

"Yes, my lord," Renji said with a smile, voice strong and glowing with happiness. Ikkaku was in high spirits for the rest of the night.

He was excited. He was going to journey tomorrow to meet his princess, one day his queen. They wouldn't arrive for many days, of course, but it was still exciting.

He can't wait to see how her face will light up at the beautiful gift he brought her.

Ikkaku smiled at the thought of it, then suddenly frowned in contemplation. Maybe he'll put a similar note in that locket too.

Fumbling for a pen, he sat at his desk and wrote with care on a small scrap of letter stock,  _'To Princess Nemu. — When you carry this, you carry my heart.'_

He didn't write 'love always', but he did write his name.  _'Ikkaku.'_

He folded it up small to fit in the locket tomorrow and placed the note by his bed so he wouldn't forget it. He left the room to make sure the preparations were being seen to properly. He would likely get little sleep, whether from actual business or plain old restlessness.

Somehow though, despite his excitement, he still did wish he had time to go visit Yumichika tonight too.  


…  


Renji had been having strange dreams for nights on end, since he'd first seen that silver being in the garden, and tonight was the same.

He'd had these as a young boy before, and through his teen years, but never with such frequency. Almost without fail, he would awaken with tears on his face and an inconsolable grief in heart.

Always, standing in the darkness, looking around him and seeing nothing, feeling nothing. "Who," he called timidly, "Who, who's there?" He swallowed hard, his chest compressing as he fought the urge to weep. "It's you," he whimpered, crumpling inward. "Why did you leave me alone?"

The endless emptiness echoed back, showing him nothing but blackness. Suddenly, a great void opens up, and a force withdraws, whooshing past him, and he is alone.

"I needed you," he whispered, and the tears came, dribbling pitifully from his eyes, from his nose, down onto his neck. He reached out his arms. "Come back," he wept.

He thought he heard something then as his tears hit the cold ground. As he held out his arms, he could feel something unraveling at lightning speed, tugging on his hand.

Renji was subdued and brooding when he woke up – on time, of course, before the sun rose – completing his morning duties quietly, whereas usually he would have been all smiles to keep up the spirits of the boys. Despite his bad dreams and the aching loneliness he felt upon waking, he comforted himself with the satisfaction he felt at having shined and polished Prince Ikkaku's amulet.

He treasured the trust and kindness the prince has shown him in giving him this special assignment, and kept the necklace safe, never letting it out of his sight. The stones were beautiful and sparkled dark like freshly spilt blood. The craftsmanship of the metal clasps was amazing and would surely charm the Princess Nemu. It was cold though, heavy and ice-cold, so Renji kept it safe in a bag in his pocket.

He grew somewhat discouraged when, later on, while making preparations with the horses and luggage, Captain Hisagi confronted him and harrassed him, telling him once again that he was to stay behind, don't you  _dare_  think you get to come. Renji was sullenly and stubbornly silent, refusing to either disobey or comply even as Hisagi took him by the ear and yanked him about.

He was only released when Prince Ikkaku came up – awake unexpectedly early – and Captain Hisagi let him go with a scowl. Renji sulked and rubbed at his ear and turned away to continue cinching the horse's saddlebags, trying to pretend, like a good servant, that he wasn't listening when people talked about him right in front of him.

Renji tried his best to be quiet and uninteresting, to draw the least amount of attention possible, but of course, he couldn't get off that easily. Prince Ikkaku called him over to check his horse, and after he did so, silently, he removed the amulet from his pocket and tried to return it to the prince.

"What's this?"

"Your gift to Lady Nemu, M'lord," Renji muttered, holding it out, but Prince Ikkaku didn't take it, instead waving him off.

"Hold onto that for me for safekeeping, alright?" He gave a grin, and although before Renji had been excited that Prince Ikkaku has become more friendly towards him, now it just made him nervous. Sure enough, when Renji drew the bag back towards his chest hesitantly, he saw that Captain Hisagi was watching them with his eyes narrowed.

Renji knew he was in trouble then, but he supposed there was no helping it now.

Once the Kempachi arrived, the party began their ride out to the Fugai, which was hard going and took several days. His excitement at traveling with the royal family dampened somewhat over time. For one, Renji didn't get to ride. He walked alongside a pack-horse, holding the reigns and stomping along through the mud. He still got to enjoy the scenery of course, but his feet began to badly ache around day three.

When Prince Ikkaku had first told him he'd wanted him to come along, he'd been overjoyed, but now after all the backlash from Captain Hisagi and all the stomping through the mud, he wondered if it was worth it. He pet his horse's neck and hugged it against his face as he walked.

A few days in, they made it over Zaraki's western border and started to see a change in scenery from fields of tall dry grass and sparse trees to endless wetland, or more accurately, rice fields. As they traveled towards King Kurotsuchi's swamp kingdom, they had to pass through the Kuchiki's lands. Renji had never seen the Hokutan before, and gazed with wonder on everything, the lush forests, the small villages, and endless flooded plots of rice plants.

As they passed by on a forest path on the edges of the rice plots, they were able to see through the trees out into the fields and watch the tenant workers, stooping in the water and the brutal sun, picking and gathering rice.

As the convoy made its way on, Renji saw a boy of such beauty working in the fields that he was dumbstruck. Like the other workers, he had a sugegasa and had his pants rolled to his shins, but his hat had been pushed off his head and hung by a string on his back.

The sun shone through his hair like gold, and as Renji looked on his dark lashes and the peachy flush to his youthful face, he felt breathless. He watched for as long as he could until they passed by the young man and on through the fields.

They came to the castle after eight days journey. By this point, Prince Ikkaku has become uncontrollably excited, and the Kempachi, uncontrollably irritable with his son. As they came through to the gates of the Kurotsuchi chateau, Ikkaku took the amulet back so he'd have it to give to Princess Nemu.

Renji wasn't there to see the meeting like most of the other members in the convoy were. He stayed back with the others in the servant camp and cleaned mud off the horses, who had been riding through swamp for the past day and a half, and then waited idly for the day they would return back home.

Also, he tried to dry out his legs and feet, because he was getting a case of trench foot.

It was probably the first time that he'd had this much time to himself, and he used it to daydream, not knowing what else to do. He thought on the farmer he'd seen a few days prior. Maybe on the way home he might catch sight of that boy again.

He hoped that he did.

Renji had been taught during his youth by an old woman that a strange appearance like that in a land of dark hair and dark eyes meant that there was a touch of magic there. Like Renji, that boy had been taken to the mountain as a babe.

* * *

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Once, not so very long ago, in the kingdom of Zaraki, lived the Kyuudaime Kempachi and his son._

_At birth, the boy had been devoted unto a great demon, and as he grew, he showed promise, his skill beyond that of any imagined for his age. By fifteen, the prince was very eager to take over the empire from his aging father, however, the Kyuudaime had seen his son’s rash behavior and thought him too immature to yet challenge him for the title. He placed wealth and the glory of violence over honor, over family, over country._

  _The king defeated his son easily each and every time, frustrating him to no end when he told him he wasn’t ready to take his place. This just made the boy more determined to prove himself, and in desperation, he led his people to battle against the peaceful East, always having thought his father a fool for not conquering such an easily gotten piece of land._

_At first, it seemed that he would succeed, but then the weather turned. The very sky seemed to growl, the sea howled, and the earth raged beneath him, driving his forces back, but he refused to give up, staying on alone in a foolish display of stubbornness._

_Up to the palace steps he marched, through the doors, into the courtyard, where he shouted for a challenge, for the ruler of this country to come out so he might strike them down and take their lands, their treasure. A young woman sat coldly on her throne, not rising at his words._

_It was there that the Kyuudaime caught up and stopped his foolish son and apologized to the empress for his child’s rash deeds._

_However, the prince would not bow, and while his father’s head was to the floor in penance, he rushed an attack on the queen. Before the foolish young man knew up from down, he’d been thrown aside and his father had crossed swords with the woman in his place, having saved his immature head being flayed from his shoulders._

_The prince sulked, expecting his father, the Kyuudaime, the greatest warrior of the age to finish this in one strike as he always did. To his grand surprise and horror, a fight ensued, the woman moving with a savage grace and showing such fighting prowess that the prince was amazed. Before he knew it, he had fallen in love with her._

_Then the Kyuudaime fell dead and the new Juudaime Kempachi had sheathed her sword and turned with a flourish, leaving the poor prince on his knees in the dirt. “Father,” he wept, “Father.”_

_Enraged and embittered by the loss of his father on account of his own foolish deeds, the prince desperately tried to fight her, but it was no use. “Wait,” he finally cried, begging her to come and rule his father’s people, for it was now her duty to do so._

_“Kempachi, wait!” But she refused, and was gone._

_For ten long years, the prince had grown and ruled the empire as the Kempachi, but knew inside that he did not deserve the title. He searched far and wide for her, but could never find her anywhere._

 

…

 

Despite Ikkaku’s excitement, the travels towards the Fugai weren’t all easy.

For one, despite the assurance that Queen Unohana was safe and well, his father was in a mood. He didn’t like leaving the North, which was something that Ikkaku had always avoided discussing with his father, because well, his dad didn’t trust foreigners – which Ikkaku didn’t really agree with, but whatever, he can’t argue with the king.

For two, riding for like ten days was hard on a person’s back, and sight-seeing was only interesting for so long – even though Ikkaku hasn’t been out of the country since he was a young boy.

The first days were spent riding through Zaraki. The boulder-ridden gray-green fields of the land were wild and beautiful, blooming with untended yarrow and goldenrod. Rather than traveling the well-worn paths out to the foothills on the eastern border, they went through the few woodland towns on their journey out to the west, greeted as they went by children gathering wood and playing.

The days spent going through the Hokutan were endlessly boring, but at last around day five they crossed the small fog-shrouded river that cut through the land below the Kuchiki Manor. It looked like there might be an island out there, but Ikkaku was more concerned with the gloomy forest of the Fugai looming before them.

His father slowed his horse for a few moments with a grimace, staring into the darkness. Ikkaku stopped at his side, glancing to him several times until at last King Kenpachi waved a hand to move the cavalcade forward.

As Ikkaku had seen in books and heard from his father, the Fugai was made up of dense and inhospitable woodland, and of course, swamp. There _were_ traversable roads, of course, but not many, and frequently they had to lead the horses through muddy patches where solid ground wasn’t certain. The merry chatting of the warriors behind them dampened somewhat when they entered under the dark trees, and Ikkaku felt the same sense of uneasiness pass over him as well.

The place was downright spooky. People supposedly disappeared here quite frequently. Ikkaku had no idea what had possessed – _whoever it had been however many years ago_ – to build the royal chateau in the swamp.

The Fugai had undergone so many coups and military upheavals in their history that Ikkaku couldn’t even name you the last five families who’d had control of it. At least the last two rulers had gained some semblance of stability over the place. In the most recent coup, the prior King, Urahara, had abdicated and was banished. There was no reason to assume he was dead, but he hadn’t been seen since, his whereabouts unknown. Ikkaku had seen his portrait in a book before.

In any case, his father had explained when he was younger that power in the Fugai changed hands so many times because Fugaijin were creeps and charlatans, and were quick to stab allies in the back for their own personal gain – which explained why he’d been so reluctant when Ikkaku had begged to try and marry Princess Nemu. Hey, maybe his dad was coming out of his ways and becoming a little more open-minded.

Or, more likely, this would give Zaraki a trade advantage to be able to run easily into the Fugai. It was admittedly a strategic spot to place military outposts. Whatever, as long as he and the princess could be together. 

In any case, he could tell his father was suspicious and on his guard, because he didn’t trust magic or fae folk or the people who lived in the Junrinan, which was quite nearby, the forest blending into that of the Fugai around the foot of the mountain. Ikkaku knew there was nothing to worry about though, because there were hardly any of those kind of people living in the West, and that included the Fugai, no matter how spooky it seemed.

He’d been told once, he didn’t remember by who, that there was magic in the East and not in the West because long ago in the West, hearts had gone rotten with greed.

Anyway the point was, the last place men had lived among the fae in the West _had_ indeed been in the Fugai, with the previous king, Urahara, who’d of course been thrown out, and with him, the few remaining fair folk had fled back into the magical forest.

Ikkaku had been a bit ambiguous for a while about the idea of his father coming along, not wanting to be on the scene if some sort of argument were to break out – because honestly, his dad could be kind of a racist – but his father had ended up coming, and he wasn’t about to disobey or disagree with him.

In any case, it might be nice to get his perspective and see how he reacted to his future bride and her family.

Then again, it might be a bad idea. After all, in preparation for marriage and partnership, Ikkaku’d taken a good look at himself, and he could admit he was probably psychologically damaged considering the environment he’d grown up in, the violence, and specifically the violence surrounding his family line and his parents’ relationship. Not that they were ever harsh with each other in front of him, but it had to have an effect on a child to grow up seeing the two horrible scars his parents had inflicted on each other, the one on his mother’s chest and that on his father’s face.

They loved each other, he knew, and they got along well. He wanted that kind of relationship with his own wife, but without the violent beginnings. In any case, he can’t really ask his father for advice when it came to winning the heart of a lady, because there’s no way his father knows, considering his parents had tried to kill each other upon first meeting.

It won’t be like that with him and Princess Nemu. He isn’t like his dad, he can change.

At last they arrived at the gloomy chateau after passing countless quiet villages secreted away in the trees. Ikkaku could hardly contain himself as they finally – _finally_ – dismounted and were able to stretch their legs and change their muddy clothes.

He practically _vibrated_ with excitement when their two families were presented to each other later just inside the gates. King Kurotsuchi, the Prince Akon, and of course, Princess Nemu, on one side, had come out to greet them, and on the other, he and his father, the Kempachi. His mother was understandably absent due to her health.

Ikkaku gazed at Princess Nemu with his lips parted. He hasn’t seen her in many years, and look at how they’d both grown up. She was so beautiful, he thinks he loves her right then, so gentle and sweet. Ikkaku peeked up at her as he bowed at his father’s side. Her eyes were lowered as she curtsied in response at the same time as her brother and father bowed back.

Ikkaku felt his father shove his head down when he peeked up for too long. 

There would be a diplomatic dinner later on, and for now, he and Nemu wouldn’t have much chance to talk to each other directly, but as their parents walked off to meet in a more appropriate setting, some hall, Ikkaku assumed, and as Prince Akon gave the two of them a parting look before beckoning them on, Ikkaku glowed with excitement and happiness.

When Princess Nemu’s brother turned his back, Ikkaku reached a palm out to her, halfway, because it wouldn’t do to grab her hand if she didn’t want to.

“Princess,” he said, trying to contain a smile and maintain some dignity. “I’m glad to see you.”

She did take his hand, wordlessly, and Ikkaku felt full of the joys of spring. He closed his grasp around hers, so small and lovely, and bent to kiss her knuckles, then let her go.

He held an arm out to show her to go in front of him, and then walked at her side after their fathers.

Ikkaku was a little glad his father had come along after all, because although it meant their parents were lurking in a corner, chaperoning and talking business – _thankfully,_ the two kings seemed to be getting along, despite his father’s persistent scowl – it also meant that Ikkaku could occupy himself completely with the Princess and avoid talking to her father, King Kurotsuchi, as much as possible.

The guy was literally insane. 

There was still this vague annoyance to know that people were watching the two of them – Ikkaku didn’t like to feel spied on – but it was hard to stay focused on that with his heart glowing with happiness at just looking at her. She didn’t talk much or smile, too demure and modest to do so, but Ikkaku felt warm just to sit across from her and watch her sip her wine.

He tasted his too and tried not to grimace at the sour taste. At home, he usually drank spirits. Just another thing he’ll have to get used to.

Ikkaku found out later during dinner that he must undergo some tasks to be allowed to wed Nemu and crown her as his princess. To prevent being impolite, he tried not to say anything at all as King Kurotsuchi turned his attention on him directly at last – sort of – god, the guy was notoriously rude. He just nodded his acknowledgement frequently as he was told what he must do.

He’d expected this of course, as even in his own country, he would have to prove himself ready to be a husband.

Straight from the king’s lips, he must prove his strength, wit, virtue, and worthiness, or he will never win his daughter, Nemu’s, hand.

Ikkaku was confident enough. He felt he might do anything if only to have her at his side.

That night, although he’d thought everything had gone well enough and was floating on cloud nine, his father saw things differently.

“What?” he asked, when the Kempachi continued scowling uneasily and grunting his displeasure.

“He’s making this as difficult as possible on purpose,” his father warned.

“What do you mean, Kempachi?”

“He knows you’re bullheaded,” Kempachi clarified, jabbing him in the chest. Ikkaku looked down at the place he’d been poked and then rubbed it, wrinkling his nose at his dad. “And you’ll make a mistake, and that’s all the excuse these Fugaijin need to back out on a promise.”

 _“Father,”_ Ikkaku groaned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't bother resisting the way his shoulders drooped in exasperation and how his hand went to his brow. “That’s a generalization.”

“In any case!” the Kempachi insisted. “How witty are you, really? You think whatever mind puzzle he’ll come up with, you’ll be up to the task? They’re all… _scientists_ here,” he said with palpable distaste, as if the very idea were baffling to him.

“I’d do anything for Princess Nemu!” Ikkaku said, puffing up indignantly.

“Even study?” Kenpachi raised an eyebrow skeptically, which Ikkaku didn’t appreciate.

“Yes!"

They both scowled at each other and folded their arms with a grunt, but eventually King Kenpachi said flatly, giving him a look that didn’t inspire much confidence, “I suspect we’ll be coming back here quite a few times before any wedding announcements are made.”

“Mark me, Father, she will be my queen,” Ikkaku insisted. “I won’t give in until she’s at my side.”

“Yeah, yeah, you kids romanticize everything these days.”

“Didn't you search for Mom for like, ten years?” The Kempachi whacked him upside the head.

“Shut up that sass.”

Ikkaku turned his nose up, growing distracted when he wondered the next time he might see Princess Nemu and get to know her better. After all, while he was proving he could be her husband, he still wanted to devote some times to learning what she liked and how he could make her happy in their personal lives.

“Anyway, you’re not allowed to talk to her again until you prove your strength.”

“What!” Ikkaku burst, aghast, “The whole time we’re here, I can’t see her?!”

The Kempachi knocked him on the shoulder and the back of the head with a few heavy pats meant in solidarity. Ikkaku braced himself against the rough comfort, taking heart. “Show the Northern spirit,” his father said with very little concern. “You can court her if you do.”

“If I don’t, I can’t even talk to her?” Ikkaku said glumly, although he didn’t doubt his abilities. It just kind of sucked.

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t be hard for you anyway. If I know my boy, the task of strength will be the only easy one.”

Ikkaku huffed through his nose like an angry bull. “Please stop doubting me, Kempachi!” he snapped as politely as possible and then stormed away, his cheeks red and fuming.

When it came to his father, Ikkaku operated best when he was doubted or belittled – not too much, of course – because he starved for nothing more than the Kempachi’s approval. That being said, driven, the trial by strength was easy enough indeed.

The very next day, Ikkaku did distance shots with arrows and spears out in one of the few areas of the Fugai where one could catch sight of the sky, a training field where trees had been removed. A trial by fire was probably taking it a bit far, but that was fairly simple as well, considering his strength of will. In the following days, Ikkaku fought and killed a beast for Nemu out in the dark dank gloom of the swamp, bringing home the fur off its back.

He thought twice about giving it to her – what if she loved animals?

Anyway, apparently, all that was enough to prove his strength – of will, of character, of body, of whatever other definition there might be to judge strength – to Princess Nemu, and more importantly, her father, the king. To his relief, he was allowed to court Nemu for the week remaining that they would be there.

He only hoped his own father wouldn’t go stir crazy in the claustrophobic woods and chateau with that mad man before it was time to go home.

At first he didn’t know where to go to find her, because it wouldn’t be right to go to Princess Nemu’s room – his mind recoiled from the mere thought like a hand from hot coals. After asking a few passing servants and getting no answers, at last he met Prince Akon by chance as he walked out of what looked like a library, and god, the stench coming out of the room was suffocating.

Ikkaku resisted the itch to sneeze. “Akon!” he called, then caught himself when all he got was the cold raise of an eyebrow. “Uhh, Prince Akon, I mean – Can I ask, where can I meet with your- with uh, Princess Nemu,” he bungled. God, when he had to actually think about what he was trying to say, he almost forgot how to speak altogether. He wasn't used to talking to another person his age - or any other age, really - with any degree of respect.

Maybe spending so much time in the foothill towns with brigands and bandits as a teenager hadn’t been a good idea. It’d been damn fun though.

“My sister is likely studying, or in the garden,” Akon replied, after staring at him for a long time with dark sullen eyes. Ikkaku had thought with hope the first few days that the two of them might become buddies or something like it, but Prince Akon sure didn’t seem to know how to have fun. It was at least easier to know what he was thinking, since he talked more than Princess Nemu did.

Problem was, what Akon thought of him was clearly a brute who was dumb as a stump.

“The garden?” he repeated, feeling even dumber and more helpless, because… the entire chateau seemed to be surrounded by crumbling stone and overgrown hedges. Were there gardens at all? It just seemed like the whole place had been swallowed by woods and swamp. Some of that was actually garden?

“Behind the chateau,” Akon said in the same flat tone as everything else. Ikkaku must have blinked blankly enough that Akon took pity, because he called back into the library and had a servant – Rin – show him where to go.

Apparently, Princess Nemu liked to be in this garden quite a lot. Ikkaku couldn’t see why, because it wasn’t nearly as pretty as his mother’s garden with the magical tree, but there were still some fountains and statues underneath the wild vines choking and coating them. The trees and bushes were all gnarled up though, as if they’d hardly been tended a day in their lives. There were some flowers, of course, which made the garden a bit less spooky and gloomy. Ikkaku figured he could get used to it if he had to, because despite the untended state of the garden, it was still lovely, he supposed, just like the Princess. 

Ikkaku was happy to get some time to talk to her alone. Well of course, they were never _really_ alone together. Even now, there were gardeners around somewhere, just out of sight and spying on them, he was sure. That Rin character was probably lurking by the gates too, but Ikkaku had come to accept it. This was just how their lives were going to be, and hopefully it would decrease once they were married.

“Princess,” he greeted her, finding her on a stone bench, reading a book. She looked up at his approach. He reached out to take her hand and kissed it.

Ahh, he liked her a lot. Their children, if they had some, would be lovely and strong. Nemu looks like his mother sort of – at least, she was beautiful in the same way he’d been taught women were beautiful, growing up. She was quiet like his mom was too, but not in a serene or deadly sort of way, but in an almost unsettling one. It made him feel like his excitement at meeting her and being engaged to her wasn’t reciprocated. If it was, she certainly didn’t show it.

Somehow, he can’t quite imagine the relationship between his mother and father existing between him and Nemu, but he wanted to get there. That was partly why in the North, to become an adult, one had to partner up in some way – to prove that you could function in society and coexist with another person. If you could love someone as much as yourself, create a family in some form, you could understand and value community, could feel love and loyalty to one's country, as though it were an extension of that family. It was something Ikkaku promised himself he’d work hard at, to gain Nemu’s trust, and if she didn’t like him yet, he hoped she would someday.

Perhaps one day, like his parents, they might love each other very much. Perhaps one day they would rule together in blood, and like his mother and father, he would rule as Kempachi with Nemu at his side as his Empress. United, they’d be a formidable alliance, the mysterious chemical warfare of the Fugai paired with the brute force of the North’s manpower.

And most importantly, Ikkaku felt, they might even bring each other much happiness as well.

He spent his afternoons with Nemu, sometimes sitting with her in the garden and yakking away about his fights against the raiders of the North Sea, and sometimes urging her to show him around the chateau. At last, it was the final day of their visit and it was time to say goodbye.

Ikkaku decided to give her the locket then. “Princess, I have something for you,” he told her when they were beneath a large tree near several headless statues in the garden. He took her hands and placed the gift in it. 

She didn’t say anything, but looked at the necklace and moved it so that it shone and sparkled in the low light. Ikkaku watched for a few moments in anticipation, but his excitement began to falter. He'd been expecting a smile, but she'd hardly reacted. She hadn’t even smiled a _little_ bit.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Thank you,” she said, and Ikkaku beamed. As she held it up, Ikkaku could see her face reflecting in the red stones.

“I’ll help you put it on,” he offered. She tilted her neck and allowed him to place it around her. It took him a few tries to close the clasp, and then he leaned back, happy to see it gleaming on her pretty neck. The jewels were dark like blood against her fair chest.

“Ah,” Ikkaku said, rubbing the back of his head with a half-smile. “It actually opens up. You can look inside when you’re alone,” he told her, “If you want.”

They walked back into the chateau together and at last it was time for them to part. “I’ll see you again soon, Princess,” he said, gazing into her pretty face with longing. As much as he missed home, he didn’t want to say goodbye.

On the ride back, Ikkaku grew bored, and on the last couple days before arriving in Zaraki, Ikkaku broke some rules and had Renji come up and walk next to his horse for a while. No one said anything because he was the prince, of course, although Renji kept glancing about nervously for some time as if he was going to get into trouble, as if Ikkaku hadn’t clearly told him to walk there at his side!

Ikkaku bragged for a while and rattled on about how pretty and smart Princess Nemu was until his father snorted and rode on ahead of him, leaving him to chatter at Renji on his own. Renji seemed pleased enough to listen along, glancing up frequently despite tripping over branches repeatedly. After a while however, he seemed to fall into his own daydreams, noticeably distracted.

“Hey, you listening?” Ikkaku asked with a scowl, knocking Renji in the shoulder with his foot.

“Yes!” Renji said hurriedly, “My apologies, M’lord.”

Ikkaku frowned in contemplation when Renji became distracted again not thirty seconds later. He asked after his quietness, and Renji looked at his feet, seeming to… Was he blushing?

Renji told him then about a boy he’d seen working in the Kuchiki rice fields. Ikkaku blinked and frowned at the strange glow to his face, just talking about it. “Prince Ikkaku, he had golden hair, do you think that might mean,” Renji wondered, clearly absolutely silly for this peasant – but then, Ikkaku supposed it was right that like should attract like. “Do you think that means he was brought to the Junrinan, sir?”

“I don’t see why he would be, he’s just a peasant farmer,” Ikkaku muttered, not much concerned with Renji’s feelings of affection for this boy, whoever it was, beyond his fascination with the expression on Renji’s face. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his eyes shine like that, with such fervor. He’s in love, isn’t he. Ahh, he’s such a simple man.

Thoughtlessly, Renji blurted out of turn, “But I-” but then immediately shut his mouth hard. “Forgive me, M’lord.”

“What?” Renji remained stubbornly silent, not making eye contact. “Say what you were going to say,” Ikkaku demanded with his eyebrows drawn down.

“It was rubbish-nonsense.” Renji swallowed, in a cold sweat.

“I tell you, say it.”

He shook his head desperately. “Please, my prince, I-”

“Don’t test me, Renji,” Ikkaku insisted.

Renji, with his shoulders hunched in, mumbled, “I was only going to say, sir, that I was also taken to the Junrinan, even though I’m not worth much of anything. I thought he might have been too.”

“Hmph,” Ikkaku muttered sourly, but largely brushed it off, not liking to admit or acknowledge when someone corrected him, which was probably why Renji had resisted repeating it.

“In any case, I’m glad to go home,” he said. “I want to meet with Yumichika again.” He felt happy just saying it. He’d forgotten about it since he’d been so occupied with Princess Nemu, but now he was looking forward to getting back home.

“Yumichika, sir?” Renji wondered attentively, on his best behavior after the relief of being let off that easily for contradicting his betters.

“Oh,” Ikkaku said brightly. “The fae I met in the garden,” he clarified. “Remember?”

Renji didn’t seem as excited as he was, sticking his lip out in concern. “The fae?… Is it safe, my prince?”

Ikkaku gave a fond smile. It was endearing that Renji might worry about him even when there was no need. “I won’t let my guard down,” he reassured nonetheless.

That night, Ikkaku went out into the garden to meet Yumichika under the apple tree. Sure enough, Yumichika came, and transformed just as before.

They stood there and smiled at each other for a few moments, Yumichika in amusement, Ikkaku, still swept away by Yumichika’s incredible beauty and his enchanting demeanor. He practically squirmed where he stood, hands at his sides, coiling and uncoiling. He felt like seizing him in a hug and laughing, feeling like an excited puppy or a small child - of course, he didn't. Who know what offense that might cause. 

“I’d thought you wouldn’t come back,” Yumichika said, tilting his head, his hair spilling over his shoulder, dark and lovely against his crisp white yukata.

“I thought the same,” Ikkaku said breathlessly, happier than ever to see his friend again. “I’d gone away,” he explained, and they sat together in the shade beneath the tree, close enough that Ikkaku could feel the warmth of his skin, see his individual eyelashes as they fluttered above his luminous violet eyes.

“How far have you journeyed?” Yumichika questioned, and Ikkaku, as pleased as ever to hear genuine interest in his affairs, obliged.

“I’ve been to the Fugai to see my future wife,” he said with a proud smile.

Yumichika’s eyes sparkled, his lips drawn in an indulgent smile. “What is she like?”

“She’s a beautiful princess,” Ikkaku gushed, not nearly bored of talking about her. “Gentle and sweet,” he told him with a smile, then furrowed his brow. “And mysterious.” Leaning back on his palms, stretching out in the warm grass, Ikkaku hummed contentedly, “My duties as a prince won’t be a hardship at all.”

“Your excitement glows through your eyes,” Yumichika noted with a fond quirk to his lip. Ikkaku rubbed the back of his neck, nose crinkling in a grin. He wondered if it was as obvious on his face as it was on Renji's for that peasant boy.

“Heh’, well,” he brushed away, and then inquired with fascination and wonder, “What about you, Yumichika, what have you been up to?”

“We’ve flown far and wide each night, over the peak of the mountain into the Far East.” Ikkaku eyes boggled, his mouth ajar in awe. He sat up, feet flat on the ground, and leaned his elbows on his bent knees, eager to hear more.

“You’ve been to the Far East?” he gaped, which was sort of a stupid question considering Yumichika was a fae, and fae love to play in the East, so he was told. His father didn’t tell him much else about the place, but his mother was from there, and she said it was beautiful, like heaven come down to the earth.

“What’s it look like on the other side? What are the people like? Do you come back every night, or just when you feel like visiting?” he pestered, enraptured. Yumichika smiled.

He answered all of Ikkaku’s questions, as many as they came, and with every slow picturesque description of the rolling countryside, the intricate palaces, and the kind-hearted, carefree, generous people, Yumichika’s story-telling painted the likeness of an amazing lovely place in Ikkaku’s head.

There was little the prince loved more than a good story, and fae were notoriously skilled at the craft. Sure enough, the more he was taken in by Yumichika’s tale, the more he didn’t want the sun to rise.

They talked late into the night, and as the dawn broke and Yumichika promised to return tomorrow, Ikkaku found himself absolutely charmed. He doesn’t think he’s had a friend who would sit and talk with him in such a carefree manner since he was very small.

…

 

The enjoyment of being taken back into Prince Ikkaku’s friendship somewhat has completely worn off, particularly now that they’d come home from the Fugai. Captain Hisagi had long since lost patience with him.

Renji wasn’t stupid. He knew it was blatant jealousy. Hisagi Shuuhei was captain of the guard and what should be Ikkaku’s closest advisor, but lately, Ikkaku had been confiding in him, even going so far to entrust him with a precious treasure, not even to mention letting him in on secret matters such as the whole apple thievery debacle – Prince Ikkaku has come to _him,_ the lowly stable hand, rekindling the friendship of their younger days.

Despite their offhand physical relationship, Captain Hisagi has been growing openly nasty and jealous of Renji’s favor with the prince and the time they were spending together all of a sudden. Renji knew that he was pushing his luck extremely thin, but it wasn’t as if he could refuse the prince his requests just to appease Hisagi. Prince Ikkaku kept asking him to accompany him to the garden while he met his fae friend, even though he fell asleep there each night rather than keeping any kind of watch. He didn’t know why he insisted on it, but Renji can’t tell him no, and therefore can’t escape Hisagi’s ever-increasing bitterness.

He’d cornered him several times now, having seen Renji and Prince Ikkaku’s exchange in the stable weeks prior. Renji had known Captain Hisagi had seen him give Prince Ikkaku that golden apple and knew he hadn’t heard the last of it – and sure enough, Hisagi interrogated him with near incessance, every time they were alone.

Once Renji realized that Hisagi could not make out the mystery of the apple tree and why Prince Ikkaku went there so regularly, he’d resolved to himself not to speak, at any cost. Hisagi asked after it many times, looming in his face and intimidating him, but Renji was tight lipped and stubborn.

At last, growing demanding and uncompromising, Hisagi came to him late at night in the stable and dragged him awake with none of the gentleness – however unfeeling it had been even in the beginning – he’d used in the past.

But Renji would not speak. That hope glowing in his heart that he might regain Prince Ikkaku’s friendship, that he might quench the loneliness he felt at losing the few who had loved him in his childhood – he could not betray that hope. He would not break the trust Prince Ikkaku had placed in him, no matter how Hisagi was cruel and cold to him, no matter how he suffered.

“I’ll teach you to defy me,” Hisagi hissed, hand gripping his hair tight, standing above him. Renji grit his teeth, but stuck his chin up and would not speak. “You sit there in silence still, you stubborn-ass – you won’t be able to speak for a week when I’m through with you.”

Renji refused still, not rising to the threat, and choked on his silence.

When Renji was alone, having been tossed into the hay, he wiped his tongue on his arm to get the taste out of his mouth after servicing him. He felt hollow inside and he ached and he ached and he ached.

He lays on his back in the itchy straw and thought of that boy and wondered with all his might if he’d ever see him again.

That night was restless when he finally found sleep. The darkness called, empty and gaping like an echo chamber made to reflect and rebound his pain a hundred times over.

“Where are you?” he called. “Why did you leave me there?”

Holding his chest, he tried to hold himself together, tried to rip the hole out, tried to keep his heart inside, tried to expel the grief and sadness.

“Please, come back to me,” he begged, “The loneliness, I can’t bear it any longer.” Voice cracking, he whispered, “I’ve been so lonely.”

“No longer.”

Renji shook his head, his face streaming with pained tears. He hiccuped. It can’t be true. It just can’t be. If he wakes up to find it was all a lie, he won’t be able to go on.

“Look, my child. Look on this gift and count yourself lucky.” He could feel it even if he could not see it, could sense it though he could not hear it.

“Look,” came the whisper. “Dry your eyes and look.”

Renji approached, and the darkness lifted just enough that he was able to squint and peer about, finding that he was in a dark grove of bamboo. He stepped forward slowly, stumbling along towards a small clearing where there were no bamboo stalks, just enough of a space to stand. The grass there was brilliantly yellow-green, and a thick stump of bamboo was chopped off at about hip height.

Renji moved towards it with caution, sniffing and wiping his cheeks. On top of the bamboo stump was a... seed? He squatted in front of it, peering closely, and then picked up the large pod, cupping it in his palms.

He gazed down at it and watched as it opened in his hands, the insides glowing ruby red. His heart filled with amazement and the tears flowed.

“One day you will be lonely no more.”

Heart yet dancing with hope, Renji woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

_Once upon a time there was a little girl whose father was cold and cruel, his mind too scientific and analytical to find any value in emotion. No matter how she excelled, how she studied, how her beauty shone like a bright star, she could never impress him or draw his attention._

_She grew to be a woman in a land that reflected her gloominess, and in turn, her heart grew cold as well. Despite it all, she still starved for her father’s love, and willingly became his machine, his pawn._

_And this was why she came to be known as the princess who never smiled._

...  


 

Ikkaku and Yumichika met many times, night after night.

People were starting to wonder what was taking up his time, why he was so tired during the day. Apparently Yachiru has been really fussy without him to annoy, which of course, had his father annoyed too.

“Baldy, play with me!” she cried, clinging onto his leg, and Ikkaku relented and scooped her up, throwing her in the air with a wild laugh and then slinging her on his shoulders.

“Rascal,” he muttered as she slapped her little hands on his head and kicked her feet as he ran through the halls. When he was out of breath and she was gasping from laughing and screaming, Ikkaku delivered her to his father’s throne, dumping her into his waiting lap, where she almost immediately went to sleep.

“Finally, you lazy lump,” the Kempachi griped, but cuddled her in the crook of his arm. “She’s been pulling my hair for days on end, whining that she’s bored.”

“Okay, so why doesn’t she play with somebody then?” Ikkaku sighed, standing with his hands on his hips, still breathing hard and sweating from the long run.

“No one wants to play with her, that’s why.” King Kenpachi scowled and pet her little pink head. Ikkaku rolled his eyes. If his father had been half as affectionate with him as he was with Yachiru, he might not have so many issues. He’s surprised he didn’t turn into a jealous and bloodthirsty maniac, growing up with his dad showing her clear favoritism, when she wasn’t even his child and Ikkaku was his actual son.

He didn’t begrudge her the spoiling the Kempachi showed her though. Ikkaku was fond of the little monster too, as annoying as she could be sometimes.

Truth be told, Ikkaku didn’t actually know much about Yachiru. He can’t remember a time without her there. He’d grown up with her there, and had played with her through childhood, but as he’d grown into a man, she’d stayed cute and small, tiny even – but most importantly, _the same._ She’d been like that long before he’d even been born.

All he really knew was that the Kempachi had found her in the Rukon when he’d been wandering like a wild man in search for his mother long ago.

His father insisted that Yachiru was human – maybe granted eternal life somehow, who knew – and definitely wasn't magic, but Ikkaku can remember if he tries hard, Yachiru used to entertain him as a toddler by turning into a pink cat. She hasn’t done so since though, and the memory was so distant that they may as well have been dreams.

“In any case, what has you so preoccupied? Still mooning over Lady Nemu?” his father snorted, at which Ikkaku pursed his lips.

“No,” he denied.

“You know it’s time to go back and see her in like, a week, right?” To be honest, he’d of course known, but it had largely slipped his mind.

“I know! I’ve just had… other things… on my mind,” Ikkaku muttered, trying to say the truth without telling the truth.

The truth was, he and Yumichika had met again night after night in the same manner for nearly a month. They always sat and talked under the tree. Before, Ikkaku hadn’t been able to come very near the serpent or touch it, but now he could, even having dared to lay his hand on its leathery back once or twice.

He hadn’t missed a single night. It was amazing really, how he could gain so much happiness and positive feeling from their meetings, but he did, drawing more energy than he did through training or sparring. Being with Yumichika – it was a strange sensation, as though their hearts beat as one. He'd never thought he'd meet a fae, and who would've ever guessed Yumichika would become so important to him, his dear, dear friend.

“You ever gonna’ tell me what happened with that bogie in the garden?” Kenpachi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He-!” Ikkaku shouted and then shut up, cheeks full to bursting with air. He glared and then said with more self-control, “He’s not a bogie. I’m handling it.”

“Fine, fine.”

That night when he met Yumichika in the garden, they talked for hours as usual. Laying under the tree branches with the birds singing around him and Yumichika at his side, Ikkaku felt more at peace than he thinks he ever has, even after he’d learned to meditate as a teen. 

“I’m visiting the Fugai again soon in a few days.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yep. So we’ll see how that goes.”

“I’m confident in you,” Yumichika said, and somehow, even to a man who’d grown bored with praise after receiving it nonstop by anyone and everyone for anything and everything since the day he’d been born, Ikkaku didn’t feel patronized. From the people who mattered, like his father, his mother, who took care not to stroke his ego, it still had an effect.

From Yumichika, he could barely help squirming around and feeling embarrassed, and most of all, warm inside.

“Aw,” he muttered, swiping at his nose. “Enough.”

At last it was time to go back and woo the Lady Nemu. However, for his efforts and thirty days spent away from home, all he turned up was a miserable failure.

The trip had been to complete the task of wit, which, like his father had warned him, seemed to be too much for him – regrettably, because Ikkaku didn’t like to feel stupid, or worse, that his father was _right_ about him being stupid.

It should have been simple. He didn’t have to journey to the ends of the earth searching for some long-lost treasure or to defeat a beast with nine lives and an impenetrable hide. It was a mere riddle – _damn it._

The entire thing had consisted of a short and uncomfortable conversation with King Kurotsuchi during the welcome dinner, in which he’d explained the simple puzzle.

_‘What we caught, we threw away; what we didn’t catch, we kept. What did we keep?’_

Ikkaku had stared blankly, opened his mouth, then shut it. His father, across the table, seemed to barely suppress an almighty groan, but Ikkaku did catch him flutter an eye rapidly, just short of a full on eyeroll. Embarrassed and upset by his father’s lack of faith in him, Ikkaku scowled and puzzled over the riddle, but for the entirety of the feast, he could think of no answer.

And onward for the entire ten days they were there to visit, and all twenty days on the way back home.

He thought on it for _ages_ _,_ what could it be? What would someone want to keep? A beast, treasure – no, but when we caught it, we threw it away, so it was something _un_ -wanted. A disease? A bad smell?

None of those answers had turned up correct. He’d even thought it might be something abstract like youth or unluckiness, but he just could not seem to find the solution and crack the riddle.

And so, he wasn’t allowed to so much as lay eye on Nemu past the first day they arrived there, and he returned in embarrassing frustrating failure, as his father had at first anticipated. What infuriated Ikkaku most was that he suspected the Kempachi knew the answer to the riddle but was purposefully keeping him in the dark. Whatever, Ikkaku wouldn’t ask his help anyways, too stubbornly prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop him from moaning to Yumichika about it though. The very night he returned home, he told Yumichika his woes about the task of wit, and wonderful Yumichika of course said he would help him.

"Tell me why you frown, you silly boy," Yumichika soothed, and Ikkaku has never minded less to be thought silly. "To a fae, riddles are a simple matter. I'll solve it in a trice, sweet thing."

Ikkaku smiled in relief, some of his frustration easing. However, the moment he told Yumichika the riddle, his brow furrowed in what Ikkaku at first thought was the same puzzlement that had taken hold of him just the same.

“I know, it’s hard, isn’t it,” Ikkaku complained, but Yumichika’s frown turned into a grimace, then slight, slight amusement. “What, you know the answer too?!” Ikkaku blurted in outrage.

“The king’s played a trick on you,” Yumichika imparted, a hand in front of his mouth to keep from smiling. Ikkaku didn’t see what was so funny.

“What?” he hummed, not liking to think he’d been foolish enough to be tricked. His dad had always said the Fugaijin couldn’t be trusted, but Ikkaku had brushed it off as his dad’s typical paranoia about foreigners.

“It’s a mean-spirited joke,” Yumichika explained. “The answer to the riddle is a problem you’ll likely never face.”

Ikkaku feels even more foolish when he still doesn’t understand, even with Yumichika’s hint. “Why not?”

Yumichika raised an eyebrow and threw his long hair over his shoulder rather pointedly, then shined an apple on his shirt and held it up in front of Ikkaku’s head to block him from sight. Ikkaku scowled and felt the back of his head. It doesn’t shine like that, does it?

“Hey…” he mumbled self-consciously.

“Well then?” Yumichika urged.

“What does it have to do with hair, huh?” Ikkaku grunted, going over it again, “ _‘What we caught, we threw away; what we didn’t catch, we-’_...” He stopped and considered. “What we…” He snapped his fingers all of a sudden when he caught on.

“Oh! Fuck!” Ikkaku exclaimed in surprise, then quickly changed to irritation. “That wiley fucker! That was mean! Oh, that was nasty!”

Yumichika let out a laugh when Ikkaku threw himself down into the grass with a long groan, and how miserable can one feel when graced with fae laughter.

“Well I feel dumb now,” he muttered, but then smiled at Yumichika a bit. “Hey thanks, I’d never have worked that one out on my own,” he fessed up, able to admit to his shortcomings in a way that he couldn't in the company of anyone else.

"Of course, my sweet boy. Now go charm your lady love." Ikkaku beamed, feeling warm all over.

"I will!"

It took an unnecessarily long time, but Ikkaku returned, and with the completion of the task of wit, he was able to court Nemu and continue trying to win her hand.

It had been a while since they’d seen each other, and Ikkaku was even more determined for Princess Nemu to like him, to make himself into someone that she would like.

“Princess!” he said eagerly, holding her gloved hand in his brutish grip when they meet.

 _‘Don’t smile at her,’_ he scolded himself, easing back. He made an effort to smile without showing his teeth then. _‘Gentle,’_ he reminded, _‘I must be gentle.’_

“I’ve solved the puzzle,” he told her in a soft voice, “We can be together.” She nodded modestly and Ikkaku had to clamp down on the ferocious grin again. She was so lovely and sweet that he felt his heart sing at the sight of her. He kept a hold of her hand and let her lead him through the chateau.

To his delight, she really seemed to be warming up to him, because she was a bit more open with him this time, and they spent a lot of time together – supervised of course. They read together in the library, he held jars for her while she gathered ingredients from rather spiny, spiky looking plants from her garden – she was going to use them for science, she was so smart! – and notably, he also let her jab and poke him with acupuncture needles and study his reactions to her heart’s content.

Anything for love.

In the ensuing months, Ikkaku kept coming to Yumichika for help in the same way. At last there was only one task left, and as Ikkaku walked through the gloomy halls of the chateau at the side of the mad king, Kurotsuchi, Ikkaku remained as polite and composed as possible – even though it’s still impossible for him to imagine that this man will be his _father_ by law. King Kurotsuchi was nothing like the Kempachi, but of course, Ikkaku still had to be nice to him, no matter how weird and creepy he was.

With all the tasks complete, Kurotsuchi told him, as was agreed, that Nemu would be won and he may wed her, after this one last missive. Ikkaku eagerly pressed, “What is it, your highness?”

A cold white hand clenched on his shoulder, a long nail digging into the meat of his back. Ikkaku suppressed a shudder. The Kempachi gave him lovingly rough back pats and slaps to the shoulder too, but this felt cold and slimy down into his bones. No, King Kurotsuchi was nothing like his own father.

Ikkaku tried to still the uneasiness he felt in his stomach at the large, yellow, sinister grin the king gave him, his mad eyes focusing on him beadily and staring into him. Despite the man’s usual ravings and negligent social abilities, Ikkaku got the feeling that Kurotsuchi could outwit him in a second, could trick and backstab him as easily as his father, the Kempachi, always said the Fugaijin could and would.

“If you can but make her smile, she is thine,” he told him, and at first Ikkaku felt happy, because it was so simple!

Deceptively simple.

That was when Ikkaku realized that Nemu has never smiled at him, or at anything else, for the whole last year that he’s been courting her, or in fact, the entire time he’s known her.

Kurotsuchi continued grinning that eerie grin, as if already awaiting his failure, and Ikkaku agreed to the final task and bowed his departure, eager to escape that grip and that gaze. 

Ikkaku gave it his best in the following days, but to his dismay, no matter what he did, Nemu would not smile at him. He hadn’t seen it before, perhaps enjoying her company too much to notice, but now that he’d had it pointed out, he couldn’t _stop_ noticing, frowning in confusion and hurt a bit more each time he failed to coax out a smile. 

She did not laugh at his jokes, nor when he made a fool of himself on purpose and walked on his hands, nor when he hung from a tree by his ankles and stuck his tongue out, nor when he flung himself on his back in the dirt in front of her feet. All he received was that same blank expression, or sometimes a gloomy frown. 

Ikkaku puzzled and puzzled over this, and when he did not succeed in winning a smile in the allotted ten days, they had to return home. After trying to study how to win a woman’s heart, he even went so far as to ask his mother for advice on how to make her smile, how to get her to like him. 

“Have you tried getting fatally wounded?” his mother wondered serenely, and Ikkaku knew she was joking, but he still laughed nervously all the same.

Truly, his mom was the scary one, not his dad.

He tried giving her presents, tried to find out what she most enjoyed doing so he could please her, even tried asking her brother for help, but to no avail.

His princess would not smile at him, and that was when Ikkaku came to a rather devastating realization that through all this time he’d been trying in earnest to win her heart, she did not love him, or even _like_ him.

He tried talking to Renji about it, always so popular with the girls, but found that more than ever, Renji’s usual sparkling eyes and eagerness to be helpful just made him feel bitter. Perhaps it’s why he feels so attached to Yumichika now, having regained that sensation of belonging, of having found a friend who loved him even though they didn't _have_ _to_ , that feeling he’d lost so long ago with the only other person who’d ever been his real buddy, Renji.

As they’d grown up, Renji had stopped treating him as he had when they were boys, he’d started scraping and groveling like any other servant, and had stopped being a normal friend. Ikkaku had come to realize at some point that Renji, like everyone else, was likely only nice to him because he had to be. Maybe Ikkaku’s always felt a little hurt by this revelation, betrayed even, and still was somewhat resentful over it.

So there was only one person left to go to for advice, and that was his fae friend.

He bemoaned his difficulties to Yumichika as usual, told him how he’d visited several times to try to make her smile, and she would not. Was there sadness in her heart? Did she not love him?

“I mean, I told her a joke and she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even _blink,”_ Ikkaku muttered, shoving his chin into his palm with a pout.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you said,” Yumichika said, folding his hands in his lap, eyes sparkling with eagerness. Ikkaku sat up.

“Okay,” he agreed, brightening a little bit. “So one day a patrolman sees another man with a cart full of lizards. He called the man over and said,” he put on a rather stupid boorish voice, “ _‘You can’t drive around with lizards in this town! Take them to the forest immediately.’”_ Already, Yumichika was smiling just listening, leaning forward in anticipation. Ikkaku beamed, getting into the telling of the thing.

“The man said that he would and he walked off with the cart, but the next day the patrolman sees him _again_ still carting around the lizards, so he pulled the guy over and said, _‘I thought I told you to take these damn lizards to the forest yesterday!’_ And so the guy said, _‘I did… today I’m taking them to the beach!’_ ” Ikkaku held his arms apart, as if to say ta-da, and Yumichika continued staring at him with a smile twisting his mouth, and at last, incredulously, he burst into laughter.

“I know! That’s funny!”

“No,” Yumichika denied, “Ikkaku, no.”

“Did you hear about the chameleon that couldn’t change color?” Ikkaku continued, telling the same jokes he told to Nemu, heart feeling like a balloon being inflated, stretching and floating at the sight of Yumichika barely able to hold in his laughter. “It had a reptile dysfunction.”

And Yumichika laughed and laughed, snorting and giggling into his hands, flopping back and forth. Ikkaku grinned widely with all his teeth.

“Oh please, no more.”

 _“Why did the lizard go to the beach?”_ Ikkaku said over Yumichika’s protests.

“Stop!” Yumichika begged, absolutely gasping, and they laughed and laughed together under the tree in the grass, and when at last they stopped, lying on their backs next to each other with fading smiles and that good ache and that light feeling to the chest after laughing for ages, Ikkaku turned his head and gazed at Yumichika, who gazed back.

Their smiles slipped off as they fell into silence, and as they looked in each other’s eyes there in the sun, Ikkaku felt a warm blossoming in his heart unlike anything else.

If he didn’t know it then, he knew the following morning when he was lying in his bed in the early light that he had fallen in love with Yumichika, and by that afternoon, he realized that he couldn’t deny it any longer, even after only a few hours. It couldn’t be held inside; he loved Yumichika very much.

With this realization came a deep uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, because this was very wrong. This complicated everything.

He thought and thought about what he should do. He was engaged to Princess Nemu and he’d tried so hard for so long to gain her favor, to be able to marry her. He had a political duty to do so at this point. He’d fought his father for months to even get him to _consider_ it.

He thought of himself then, last year, thinking he was a man, so sure of what he had to do. He’d thought it was the right thing to do to try to win her for his own, for the sake of his father’s kingdom, but now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know if she’d ever even liked him; he’d known she’d probably had no say in their engagement, but he’d thought that they could grow to love each other in time.

Now he was bursting with those same emotions he’d yearned to feel, but they weren’t for her. His heart was telling him to pursue Yumichika’s affections, to seek his happiness, to make Yumichika smile and laugh like that for as long as he lived - his wonderful friend, the one who’d helped him through all those troubles with magic in his touch, beautiful and clever and making up in those areas where he didn’t perform well, like his father had always told him was the intent of the bond laws of adulthood. Encouraging him and building him up, Yumichika was the perfect partner for him. How could it be denied?

He’d imagined Princess Nemu as his lovely empress and the two of them surrounded by their little warrior children, but now he didn’t want anything other than his fantasy of him and Yumichika going on adventures and traveling the world and leading their army to victory time and time again – and most of all, living merrily together until the day came that he’d pass his empire on to his heir.

He just didn’t know what he should do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he feared it might be too late to do it without hurting a great many people.

He might have to run away, even abdicate, live through the shame of being cast aside by his parents – he might have to live in the countryside like a wild man.

For Yumichika though, he thinks he’d pay any price. He thinks that even at great cost, he’d go to the end of the earth just to have him in his arms.

 

…

 

Keeping silent no matter how he suffered was a good idea in principle, but not a good long term plan, because eventually, Renji’s southern spirit flagged and broke.

“How low will you sink in this useless venture? What do you think you might gain?” Renji grit his teeth, silencing his cries and his breathless panting. “You think that the prince even hardly knows what your name is? You think he cares whether you live or die?”

“Please,” Renji rasped, bones aching. “Please, I can’t.”

“Do you think you’re special? You’re so replaceable it’s disgusting.”

“No. No,” he coughed out, shaking his head. It’s not true. It’s not. “Shuuhei, don’t make me, I really can’t,” he pleaded.

“You’re going to say it eventually, and then you’ll look back on all the humiliation you’ve endured, for something that didn’t even matter. So stop being stubborn.”

“You can’t… take my heart,” Renji breathed, and he didn’t think he’d ever hurt more, ever felt more alone, ever felt more _pathetic_ than he did right then, but he didn’t let the tears fall.

Things had gone on in this way for weeks. His mental state and his quality of work had begun to suffer. He couldn’t sleep, could barely eat, feeling consumed by loneliness, but still there was a tiny hope left, this burning flame of loyalty that he could not give up on. If he had anything left, it was his heart. If he gave that up, how could he go on living.

Hisagi’s hand at the side of his face, hot and damp, pressed down against his head, grinding it against the dirty floor. “As if I’d ever want something so worthless.”

And at last, Renji couldn’t bear it anymore and Hisagi bullied it out of him. 

Hisagi pulled off of his bare back, peeling them apart, and stood. Renji could hear he was fixing his pants, belt jingling as he fastened it. Renji lay motionless for a few moments, then got up on his hands and knees and put his tunic over his head, looking away, hair in his face.

He'd done it to him right there in the hay in the barn, during the daytime, the other servants not far off. Right where everyone could hear and see, where any errand boy or maid might walk past and see, where any of them could hear his cries through the walls. Right where anyone could see him being used like a slave. Humiliating.

Numbed by emptiness, Renji could still feel the words on his tongue, and it felt like a betrayal of his one remaining friend. 

He didn’t know why Captain Hisagi had wanted to know so badly, but he knew that Prince Ikkaku must not have told him for a reason, had trusted him and not Hisagi. Renji burned with the shame and guilt of giving away a secret of his prince.

In his weakness, he’d told Hisagi that Prince Ikkaku had a paramour and that they met at midnight near the tree. Each night, he was given an apple to take to the king. He’d told him.

And so, that little flame was extinguished, and that hope was gone, and all that was left was emptiness.

When he was left alone, he sat in the hay, hard and aching and filthy, and hugged himself for a long time until one of the boys ventured into the barn looking for him. He put his clothes on then and couldn’t bear to look at the kid as he sent him along to do his chores – how could he look anyone in the eye again when he’s lost his dignity, when everyone knew how the Captain has whored his body time and time again, how can he when he’s betrayed the only friend he had left. He's a traitor to the crown.

He can’t live with himself. He can’t stand himself. He can’t live a life with no more hope.

Perhaps luckily, the prince doesn’t call for him that night, but as he wandered the castle in search of one little boy who often got lost while sent to fetch things, he saw the king with Yachiru on his back, and although King Kenpachi actually spared him a glance and a friendly smirk, Renji turned away and felt ashamed.

That night, the tears flowed and flowed, and he cried and cried, howling and wailing at this empty hole inside of him. So much pain, so much despair. A life without hope… What reason does he have left to live?

“I feel alone,” he whimpered. “Why have you left me alone?”

“You are never alone. I am always with you.”

“But I can’t see you,” he blubbered, “Where, where are you?” Clutching his chest, he crawled on his knees, choking out, “I can’t bear the loneliness.”

“Soon, my child, your suffering will pass.”

“I can’t go on.”

“It will pass.”

“I can’t,” he sobbed.

“You must believe that it will.”

“I feel worthless,” he cried, cold and aching in the darkness of this empty plane. “No one loves me. No one will ever love me.”

“My child, a golden heart will always find love,” he was promised, and the light came on, just a small glow.

“Love?” he murmured, his cheeks wet as he shuffled forward – and the red flower was there, and his aching tortured heart found solace and relief.

Renji woke in the middle of the night and cleaned his face, cold all over with sweat. He rose, checked all the boys in their cots, and walked out into the moonlight through the wet grass, through the barracks.

Just outside Captain Hisagi’s room, he paused, head bowed in sadness as he thought of times past and how he’d come to be treated with such cruelty. There was nothing Renji could do to stop it though, couldn't complain when he’d been taken from slavery, rescued, and given a place to live and work, food to eat. He should consider himself lucky, really. It was a privilege to even be here.

Renji noticed light flickering in the keyhole then, and after a moment’s consideration, crouched and peered through. Hisagi was awake in there, Renji could hear him talking to himself, could see fire flickering on the walls although the grate was damp and dark.

He felt a chill rush up his spine and a sudden vision of a dark force, red around the edges, with a gaping maw of sharp teeth, and he thought that he must be insane, because it couldn’t be right. Hisagi would never do something like that.

Renji walked back to the stable and tried to pretend he hadn’t heard it, but the whisper repeats and repeats in his brain:

_“To me, Kazeshini.”_


	8. Chapter 8

_Once upon a time there was an ordinary boy, poor in wealth, but rich with the love of his family. So large and loving was his heart, so brave and kind was his soul, that despite never setting foot on the holy mountain, one in the Juureichi beamed upon him and loved him as his own and sent him a lovely gift, a tiny pearl._

_One day, the thing he loved most was taken away, and the rivers flooded and the earth shook and the heavens wept with his loss. And so, an ordinary boy became extraordinary, and his large and loving heart broke with mourning and sadness._

_Such a boy eventually grew into a man, hardened by grief, but still unfailingly kind and brave, and although poverty and hardship enclosed him on all sides, he overflowed with a wealth of gentleness and patience, a strength of spirit._

_But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about the boy, was that he didn’t see anything extraordinary in himself at all._

 

. . .

 

Ichigo’s family had lived for generations in the same little home in the Minamikawase village of the Hokutan – which was why he felt it a particularly grave outrage that they were so damn poor, that they were still fucking _renting_ the same piece of land as _tenants._ Apparently a long time ago, one of his ancestors had been fool enough to take a loan from the then Lord Kuchiki, and ever since then, there's nothing to do but work to pay the debt back.

Of course, out here everyone was in the same boat, struggling to get by, worked half to death on the Kuchiki’s lands, too bone-tired and starving to think of paying their loans past a pittance or rising up and demanding a pay-raise. The very idea was hilarious.

His life was hard, make no mistake, especially now that both his parents were gone. He’d lost his mother young and still hurts for it, and his father had gone too in the last year, worked to exhaustion and illness until he’d just disappeared one day, probably wandered into the woods to die like so many others. Only Ichigo was left now to take care of his sisters. It made him want to weep in rage every time he caught sight of their bony fingers, their ribs – he’d long since started giving them all the food and instead ate from the forest, anything he could digest that wouldn’t make him vomit for days.

This was no life for a young man to have - he should have options to make and be with friends, to marry and have a family, perhaps even uproot and travel elsewhere to start anew, yet here he is, chained down under the crushing weight of the debt on his family's property.

He's had his whole life to get used to the idea though; the unfairness of it numbed a person after a while until they were too beaten down to strike out at the injustice crushing them. Whatever dignity he has within him, whatever defiance a young hotblooded boy like Ichigo has, it's been suppressed and squeezed in and allowed to boil within him for all this time. He'd grown up with this disgusting picturesque hellscape of rice plots all around him, watching his family and his neighbors slave for ages to try to be able to even eat each night.

He's never seen a day that he could call his own, but he burns inside to be free.

Ichigo has never seen anyone actually successfully pay off their loan to the Kuchiki's, or even attempt to do so, but that's going to change. He's been saving in secret to try and pay off the debt on their piece of property. He was going to buy their home back. The way Ichigo saw it, the debt they owe wasn't actually that much, probably. At least not to a normal person who wasn’t paid so little that they didn’t need to immediately spend it all on food and clothing just to be able to live _._

Never mind that he's never known any other life, Ichigo knew damn well that what happened in the Hokutan was not  _right._  It wasn't right, and he  _will_ buy their home back and bring dignity back to the Kurosaki name. Once he does that, he'll be able to hold his head up as a man.

It took Ichigo until his twentieth summer to have enough to make the payment in full. He’d at last gathered enough from working and scrimping, trading items and doing favors for neighbors. He finally had the money, and with it wrapped up carefully in a cloth bag, he walked along the flooded plots on the dirt path up to the sprawling Kuchiki Manor, his jaw set stubbornly.

He was met at the gate with guards, and of course, wasn’t allowed to go inside or hold audience with any member of the family, being a mere peasant, but he'd at least expected to be able to send a message or talk to  _someone_. He wasn't an insect, after all, he wasn't worthless as a human. 

He would not be let in, but the guards could not drive him away, and so Ichigo waited outside until someone might come out, anyone he could talk to. 

At last, a few members of the court rode out on horses, and he called to them, “Sir! Hey! Over here!” Striding towards them, he held up the bag. “I want to pay off my debt in full! I’ve got your money, now give me my family's deed! Kurosaki house in Minamikawase!”

“Hey, who do you think you are!” snapped one of the guards, grabbing him by the arm, but Ichigo continued shouting, indignantly and perhaps with an undeserved defiance after being pushed down by these people for so long. Perhaps he’d been foolish to think it was that simple, to think they’d play fair despite breaking the backs of his family and friends for his entire life.

He quickly found out that the current Lord Kuchiki insisted on any debtors paying an insane and archaic interest rate in full. The cost of his family’s mortgage was not the price he’d thought it was, but now nearly one thousand times that amount.

“What?” he breathed, aghast, hand loose around the bag of money he’d thought meant the _end_ of all this suffering. He stood there frozen, unable to believe what he was hearing, that he was being cheated out of his home, that he’d been led to think that they might ever let him escape from under their boot. 

“Everyone who made that deal is long since dead,” he tried to reason, “Can’t I renegotiate the debt?”

“No deal for a halfling,” one of them snapped, sneering down their nose at him, and Ichigo grit his teeth, and suddenly, an uncontrollable bitterness welled up within him, because he saw now that there was no hope in the world that he might ever be able to pay this debt, and that made him not a tenant, but a _slave._  He was slave labor on their fucking rice farm and he's never going to see freedom as long as he lived.

The realization absolutely broke him, the desperation of his situation snapping him apart. He couldn’t be polite to these animals for a second longer, despite knowing the consequences all too well.

“Halfling?! I don’t even have magical blood, you fucking racist!” he shouted in open defiance, getting a kick to the cheek for his troubles. Coming completely unhinged, he lunged for the man in rage and was grabbed by both arms by the guards, thrown out into the dirt and threatened with an eviction notice if he didn’t pay recompense for his grave offense.

He’d managed to keep grip of that bag of money that seemed now, so small, near worthlessness in the face of that massive debt. He couldn’t make that much in an entire lifetime, in ten lifetimes, and the debt would keep growing and growing until it suffocated them.

Ichigo grit his teeth and stood with all the dignity he could muster, walking home with his back caked in mud. He didn’t think they were genuinely bad people, at least not Lord Kuchiki. He’s never met the guy, doesn’t know him as a person, but he did think that money made people forget their humanity after a certain point.

You lose kindness, compassion, forget the suffering and struggle the masses go through, start to think that money made you more important, more moral somehow, more special. Cold hard cash hardened one’s heart.

Ichigo gripped his hair on both sides and tried to breathe slowly, dragging himself up to his door. He was already behind on the day’s work for his efforts to go pay the mortgage.

He needed more money.

Perhaps it was madness, perhaps it was just his psyche finally cracking after the years of abuse, but the idea that he was going to be stuck here working on this farm until he died, that there was literally no way, no matter how hard he worked, to get enough money to  _ever_ buy their house back - he couldn't accept it. He couldn't cope with the futility of his situation _._ He can't go on living if he has to accept it. 

At this point, he didn't care if he was deluding himself. He was going to keep on going, and keep on trying. He had to get more money. He needed more money, and then he could pay, and he'd be free.

_'I'm gonna' get that money. I'm gonna' buy our house back, and we'll be free. No one's gonna' fucking abuse me ever again.'_

Despite the impossibility of the task set before him, Ichigo would not cede to hopelessness. He would keep trying, keep going. He was going to have to work harder than ever to try to make some free time so he could try to sell wood and see if he didn’t get flogged in the square for cutting down trees on private land.

Whatever, he was sure he was already going to be flogged for insulting part of the Kuchiki’s extended family, the assholes, mocking him up on their high horses. He didn't care anymore. Let them beat him, let them drag him through town. He didn't care. He's not going to stop. He's going to be free. He's going to give them that money one day and spit at their fucking feet.

And so it went on that way for months, but his back never bowed to exhaustion, he never dipped his head in shame, his dream never went cold. 

Others in the neighborhood sometimes had enough energy to wonder where he got his motivation from, how he kept driving forward. Rumor had it that Ichigo was born on the mount of the Juureichi or that he was born of magic or something, that he was half-fae, a halfling.

People don't say it much to his face anymore because they don't want to start shit with him, but each time it did come up, Ichigo insisted that he was natural-born and that there was nothing special about him. Everything anyone said about the mountain and the Junrinan, it was all a load of shit. People who were poor and suffering just needed something to believe in to keep going, to give them hope, but Ichigo didn’t find comfort in pretending like that.

The only thing that got you what you wanted in this world was hard work, and sometimes, not even that. Superstition was ridiculous, faith and praying, and all the rest. It got him weird looks and people thinking he was the dumb one, but Ichigo was no fool.

He wasn’t a halfling, the Juureichi wasn’t special, and there were no spirit people. There was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise, because he didn’t believe in magic. Not a damn bit.

…

 

Ikkaku was summoned by the Kempachi in the early afternoon, and on the way there, he decided to use this chance to talk to him about having changed his mind about Princess Nemu.

He’d only ruminated over this for a few days, and he was already prepared to lay it all on the line. Perhaps it was reckless, but he’d never felt more sure of anything. He knew that this feeling wasn’t going to change, and so, he had to tell his parents.

That being said, this would either go reasonably well, or completely horribly.

He was fully prepared to face his father’s full wrath, which admittedly had him a little scared. This was the first time he’d steeled himself to openly disobey if he had to. He expected shouting, but beyond that, Ikkaku didn’t know what the Kempachi would do to him. He wasn't just his father, but also his king.

He's Ikkaku's father first, though, and he didn’t want it to go badly. He deeply valued the respect and trust of his father and wanted to be accepted by him. He only hoped that King Kenpachi wouldn’t be ashamed to have him as a son after this. The worst feeling to Ikkaku was to know he’d been a disappointment to his father.

Before he could become afraid, Ikkaku said it straight out, telling him right when he came in the room, knocking swiftly on the door and waiting until his father looked up. “I’ve fallen in love,” he said, clenching his fists.

The Kempachi gave him a long-suffering look, but didn’t seem to think it of much note. “Well, good for you, I guess.”

“Not with the princess,” he corrected, knowing that this was where things were going to lead downhill.

“Oh?” King Kenpachi raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve fallen in love with a fae,” Ikkaku told him – might as well say the worst of it.

That was another point of contention. One of the main reasons the Kempachi had a grudge against the East besides having lost his father there was that he was very distrustful of magic and fair folk. Ikkaku was pretty sure that the only reason his father hadn’t chopped down the magical tree was because his mother needed its fruit, despite it being the oldest relic of the Zarakijin.

Ikkaku hadn’t had any real rebellious phase as a teenager – despite being rambunctious and wild, he’d been a very obedient son, and had never defied his parents – and hearing that his son wanted to be with a fae was probably the worst of the Kempachi’s fears, exactly the thing he _hadn’t_ wanted his son to grow up to do and be.

He swallowed hard. The Kempachi didn’t say anything at first, but he did narrow his eyes.

_'... Here it comes.'_

Ikkaku felt sick and scared, but he was brave, he was still a warrior’s son, and he wouldn’t run from the consequences, whatever they were.

“I want to break my engagement to the princess,” he stated more clearly, digging the hole deeper and deeper, and sure enough, when his father finally seemed to figure out what to say to him, he wasn’t happy.

The Kempachi was predictably incensed, but not so predictably, he wasn’t upset about the part Ikkaku had thought he would be. Apparently, he found it particularly irritating that Ikkaku should change his mind now because he’d been the one who’d agreed to this whole thing and thought it was a good idea and now he was backing out.

Ikkaku just tilted his chin up and bore it, despite the quaking in his knees. He’s beyond used to his father’s volume, his rages and shouting, but he’s never borne the full brunt of his wrath, never deserved it quite like he did now.

“You hound me for months, boy, to arrange this, and now you turn your back at the final hour?!” he raged. “What is this, cold feet?!”

“No,” Ikkaku managed to be heard over his father’s booming fury, clearing his throat and denying, “No. I’m not afraid to get married. I'm sorry I've inconvenienced you, Kempachi."

"Inconvenience, my eye! You have the gall to stick your foot in things this badly and then apologize for the inconvenience! What of the girl, what has she done to deserve such scorn?!"

"Lady Nemu has my respect and best wishes for the future - but I want to be with the one I love.”

“How fickle are your affections, boy? How changeable is your heart?”

Ikkaku set his jaw. “I’m prepared for the consequences. Whatever that means,” he said. 

His father seemed to stop at that, and eventually calmed from rage to irritation, pacing and grumbling. At last he said, “I think sometimes you feel I was never young once, but I remember feeling as you did.”

Ikkaku was silent, not wanting to push his luck any further. He wasn’t… he wasn’t going to be cast out. His father hadn’t stopped loving him, hadn’t stopped wanting him as his son. An intense relief sapped the energy from his bones and he wobbled on his feet.

“I’ll think of telling Kurotsuchi that you find this last task too difficult,” the Kempachi said after a long moment considering, his face serious and harrowed. Ikkaku squirmed in guilt at the trouble he'd caused to all parties involved, but knew ultimately, it would have been worse if he’d waited. It he’d waited until it was too late, he would have had to run away, caused an international incident.

King Kenpachi sent him a side eye with a long sigh through his nose, shaking his head. “Get you gone,” he dismissed in exasperation, “So much trouble you cause me.”

Ikkaku bowed his head and then left before his father could become irritated with him and change his mind. He could hardly believe he’d gotten away that easily.

Being prince had its perks sometimes.

Heart light with excitement and relief, Ikkaku’s thoughts turned to how to proceed. He planned to visit Yumichika that night and tell him how he felt, _please come away with me, I’ll cherish you in my heart for as long as I live._

Despite his father’s ultimately acceptant reaction, Ikkaku still doubted he would be able to be at Yumichika’s side openly, because in any case, Yumichika was still from the Junrinan, presumedly, and not royal. They would likely not be allowed to be married. Ikkaku would still have to run away from his life here to be with Yumichika freely. 

Most importantly, would someone as extraordinary as Yumichika love him in return, could he ever love him, so simple and human?

That night, Ikkaku called Renji to his room and told him of his plan. He felt he would burst if he didn’t tell someone. “Tonight when I see him in the garden, I’ll give him my heart. Ahh, Renji, do you think he loves me too?”

Expecting Renji’s immediate agreement, he was surprised when with uncharacteristic boldness, Renji begged, “Please let me accompany you tonight, Prince Ikkaku!” Ikkaku, taken aback by the open insistent pleading, didn’t know what to say.

“Well-” he tried, but Renji bowled over him, continuing to plead earnestly to be allowed to come. Ikkaku pursed his lips, not used to being interrupted.

“I understand that it is a private moment, my prince. Please allow me to stay at your side to keep watch,” Renji begged, face pinched in concern. Ikkaku frowned in confusion.

“I don’t know why you insist on this, but I don’t object,” he decided. “Just don’t interrupt or show your face when I meet Yumichika… Say… Are you feeling well?” He hasn’t noticed until just then, but Renji seemed fatigued somehow, weakened. There were dark marks all over him and his face was gaunt.

“Yes, my prince.”

Ikkaku continued scrutinizing him a moment longer. “Get something to eat. And take a rest once in awhile, for god’s sakes. You look like you’ve been mauled by a wild beast!” When Renji stared at his toes, dark circles thrown into stark relief against his cheeks, Ikkaku felt uncomfortable somehow, as though he should perk him up. He didn’t like that Renji should be sad.

He chucked him on the shoulder. “And mind when you come with me to confess to Yumichika, you send me the best of luck. I’ll be sure to charm him, with your support.” Renji straightened up a little, a tired smile stretching his face, his warm eyes sparking with a tiny something.

“As you wish, my lord.” Renji bowed at the waist and Ikkaku continued jittering with excitement and nerves.

 

…

 

That night as Renji and Prince Ikkaku went out to wait for the fae, they were not alone.

In his suspicion and concern, Renji had planted his back against a tree-trunk, grim-faced and determined to stay awake. Ikkaku, oblivious in his excitement, simply waited in anticipation.

Neither of them noticed the man approaching through the darkness, and before either of them were the wiser, they fell fast asleep in the grass.

Hisagi stood over the two of them and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow with a solemn expression, then cut a long slit along his arm, letting the blood flow and drip into the soil. He relished the familiar chill up his spine as the air grew cold through the garden, the night falling darker as the stars winked out. In the distance, he could see a smoky figure stalk through the trees, the demon, hiding among the shadows, waiting for the right moment.

He could hear it whisper as it rushed through the grass and ghosted over the two sleeping men. It lingered over the prince. _‘What are you doing in this skin?’_ it hissed, but Hisagi didn’t understand, and hid himself, waiting for the right moment.

 _‘Payment,’_ it breathed in his ear, chilling and ghastly.  _‘Payment.’_

“You shall have what you ask for,” Hisagi whispered back.

 

…

 

Ikkaku dazedly opened his eyes and yawned, vaguely realizing that he’d nodded off. He didn’t know how, considering his entire body was alight with passion and nerves, but apparently he’d slept through the tree blooming and the fruit ripening. What luck, he hasn't missed his chance.

He was just waking up when the peahens arrived. Renji lay in the grass next to him on the ground, disturbingly still, actually. Some watchman he was. He still didn’t understand why he’d been so worked up before, demanding that he come, as if to protect him, almost.

He walked out into the sunlight, showing himself, and Yumichika landed near Ikkaku’s feet and turned into himself. Ikkaku beamed at him. “You came,” he said, feeling ridiculous, as Yumichika came in the same manner every night. 

“It’s not as if I have some other handsome prince to visit,” Yumichika teased, and Ikkaku laughed a bit. They walked towards the magical tree together, sitting and talking as usual.

Ikkaku gazed at him with affection. He wanted to woo Yumichika and tell him his feelings, but maybe he was just as hopeless as his father was in matters of love, considering how he’d bungled winning Nemu’s heart. Perhaps simple honesty…

“Yumichika?” he began, “I have something to confess.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes,” he repeated, picking a wildflower off the ground and getting on his knees at Yumichika’s feet. Yumichika sat there with his hands in his lap, eyes deep and lips parted with wonder.

"Tell me, sweet thing."

Ikkaku took Yumichika’s hands in his and told him, “I think there’s nothing in the world that I love so much as I love you.” He looked up into Yumichika’s face and gently slid the flower behind his ear.

Yumichika watched him for a time and a smile began to blossom on his face. Ikkaku smiled back, warmth burning in his soul.

 

…

 

That night, the tears didn’t flow. He stood in the darkness, looking around him as he was pulled by the hand, stumbling along, led blindly.

“The time draws near.”

“What time?” he wondered.

“The thread grows short.”

“The thread?”

Renji looked down at his hands, because even in this suffocating blackness, he can see his own body as if in the sun at noon, and to his surprise, his finger is tied up firmly, ensnared in it. He felt a sense of overwhelming happiness and hurried on more quickly, letting it pull him forward.

The tears flowed then, he wept in joy. There was someone- somebody out there, waiting, on the other end of the string. There was still cause to hope.

“Wake up,” he was warned. “Dark forces draw near.”

           “Darkness?”

Renji awoke sleepily but quietly, and as soon as he was alert, he sat up and watched Ikkaku and his fair love under the tree. Ikkaku was on bended knee, clasping the hands of the lovely fae in its lap, and Renji looked on with wonder. He’d never seen the prince lay eye on anything with such gentleness, with such sparkling eyes.

Renji smiled fondly, and then gave a shudder at a harsh cold chill, so sweeping and sudden that his breath fogged in front of him and he drew his arms about himself. He looked around him and went still as he caught sight of a dark form moving through the grass and the trees.

An eerie howling started up that the lovers couldn’t seem to hear. Renji’s skin prickled with uneasiness, but before he could think to shout a warning, a shadowy form billowed out on the far side of the clearing, creeping up behind the fae.

It reared up, great and terrible and dark, and to Renji’s horror, he watched as it lifted the long beautiful hair off the fae’s back and slashed through it, leaving it short at the jaw.

Yumichika leaped to one side when he felt this, promptly transformed into a peacock, and flew away. All the birds took flight at once, startled and noisy in their panic. Ikkaku sprung off the ground with a shout, hand going to his hip for his sword, but there was nothing to be done.

Renji watched with a tightness in his chest as the demon magic faded, a sinister laugh echoing through the clearing. Yumichika’s long hair floated there in the air, burning into ash and then nothingness.

 

…

 

It took a few exhausting days before he was able to complete his work in a fashion timely enough that he could go out into the woods before it was obnoxiously late in the day.

Ichigo wandered out there with a cart, some rope, and an axe, trying to find dry firewood to sell in the Fugai. He figured he could chop it and stockpile it out here and then one day maybe take a journey down to trade at the border.

He wanted to go out far enough that he wouldn’t get caught and then punished for cutting trees on the Kuchiki’s lands. He was sore all over as it was – hell, he’d like to show those awful men how it was like to be beaten like a dog.

Little did he knew that he’d wandered so far out into the woods that he was nearly in the Junrinan. By then the moon was high in the sky, and at last, when Ichigo felt he couldn’t push the cart any further, he stopped for a rest, seeing something gleaming through the trees.

Leaving his things there, he walked towards it in curiosity only to find he’d come to the shore of a large river-lake, shrouded in fog. There was no sand around the edges, instead a straight drop from the grass into the water.

Ichigo peered hard through the dense clouds, squinting. It seemed like… there might be an island out there. It was hard to tell though, even with the moon lighting up the lake.

He sighed and sat down on the bank, feet dangling, only to bump against something. He looked down and found a wooden post. There was a little boat here, attached with a rusty chain.

Ichigo looked at it for a long time, and then out at the island. … Did someone live out here?


	9. Chapter 9

_And so the peahens came no more to the apple tree, and the prince was much grieved on this account. The tree still bore its fruit night after night, but the peahens did not come, nor did his fairy love._

_He would never see her again._

...

 

The castle was in quite the state. Prince Ikkaku had lost his love, and everyone knew it, because the poor prince wasn't taking it well at all. He wept and raged day after day, his fits quickly descending into mourning - would not eat, would not sleep, and would not speak to anyone. He's been like that ever since his love had gone away.

Renji'd taken it a bit better, despite having been whipped after the night of Yumichika's disappearance. The insult there was that Captain Hisagi had arranged the punishment, despite the fact that they both full well knew that  _he'd_ been the one to ruin Prince Ikkaku's happiness, not Renji.

He suspected that Hisagi was aware that he knew the role he'd played in ruining Prince Ikkaku's happiness and was just punishing him for having witnessed it – trying to shut him up.

At any rate, Renji had been there when it had happened, had allowed such sadness to come to Zaraki's only prince. After Hisagi was through with it, some even thought Renji had been the one to meddle with whatever dark forces had come out that night – Rukonjin trash, should have never trusted him in the castle, should have known he would betray the family. There was nothing else to do but be whipped, really. It's not as if his word had any clout to it either, and denying his involvement only made him sound like a liar.

Renji was nearly positive that Hisagi was behind all this, that he'd been the one in the garden that night, but he had no proof of course, and who would listen to him anyways, especially now.

He thought to try and tell Prince Ikkaku about Hisagi's misdeeds, but there was never an opportunity. The poor prince was holed up in his room crying or else out on the cliff watching the ocean pound the castle wall. By the time he would've been able to speak to him, it was too late, with how far the rumors had spread, how well they'd been accepted as truth. If only he'd told Prince Ikkaku of his suspicions about Hisagi before it all had happened. If only he'd been brave and told him right away, right when he'd asked to come with him to the garden. He should have told him right then and there what Hisagi was up to.

It's his own fault, really. He's been a fool and now he had to take what came.

Renji bore his punishment with dignity, calm despite the cruelty, silent despite the humiliation, and when it was over, he let a sniffling servant boy wrap up his stinging and bleeding back. He hugged another little boy who sobbed into his chest, shaken and scared after seeing the skin torn off his back by the lashes.

He stroked his little head and tried to perk him up, holding his soft hand as he limped along and saw to his duties. Lashings were no excuse for unfinished work. He knew it was far too late now to tell anybody about Hisagi's treachery, not now that he was disgraced. There would be no more talking with the Kempachi, no more hopes of finding his friendship with the prince again. He's lucky if he's allowed to live out the rest of his days here as garbage.

He deserved this, after all, didn't he. Even though he wasn't the one to send out the demon, he still has betrayed the family – if not in sending away Ikkaku's fae love himself, he had betrayed him in telling his secret. If he had just kept quiet and endured Hisagi's bullying, Yumichika would not have been scared away.

Renji kept to the stables for a few days – the little boys were all so kind to him, they'd insisted he rest, all of them pale and sniffling after having seen Renji-nii's back torn to pieces in the yard. His work was easy, feeding and cleaning the horses and the barn. He burst his scabs open a few times using the pitchfork, but he didn't tell the little ones that, not wanting to upset them further.

He didn't have time for a rest, besides. He had to have the horses ready by that afternoon, and had spent the day with his back bleeding and inflamed.

As he worked, it was then that he found he could hear Captain Hisagi, and to his great surprise, Prince Ikkaku, in the yard.

The prince didn't speak, but he was definitely there, because Hisagi was clearly talking to him - he didn't grovel like that before anyone else other than the Kempachi. Renji peered out through the stable doors and saw the prince standing there, sullen and dead-eyed, subdued into silence. He looked for all the world like he didn't want to be there. Apparently, the king had ordered that Ikkaku go out of his room, and Hisagi has suggested that they ride.

Prince Ikkaku's horse reared up in its stall suddenly, snorting and stomping about, eyes rolling wildly. Renji tried to hush and calm it, petting its face and neck when it finally stood still. It snuffled about his shoulder and Renji winced, knowing it could smell the blood. "Shh, I'm okay, boy," he murmured, rubbing its neck and feeling light-headed. He may have overdone it. Blood had soaked Renji's meager wrappings, and ran down his spine, wet and warm, but he had to stay standing, at least until the prince left on his ride.

Prince Ikkaku was very moody, and Renji dug his forehead into the horse's neck as he heard Captain Hisagi comforting the prince in a way that should have been up to Renji to do, that might have been his job had things turned out differently. Just as they'd started to become friends again, too...

Renji listened as Captain Hisagi told the prince to chin up, for he still had the princess. He clearly meant it to cheer him up, but that was when Ikkaku finally reacted, lashing out. Out in the yard, Renji saw Prince Ikkaku shove Hisagi roughly with a snarl, barking viciously that he ought to beat him around the ears for even daring to suggest such a thing. He kept up shouting, hollering ridiculous abuse at him - if Hisagi ever said anything of the sort again, he would draw, he would run him through. Renji's eyes were round. He'd never heard the prince that upset that he'd threatened to duel and kill one of his subjects.

 _'Ahh, why did I have to tell him? Why didn't I keep my mouth shut?'_ Renji thought woefully.

He knew that in telling Hisagi, he'd made a very big mistake. He should have just let Hisagi keep using his body and kept the strength of his will, should have held his head up in bravery. He'd abandoned his southern pride and allowed his unbreakable spirit to be broken, but not again. He can't call himself the prince's loyal friend if he gives up when things grew difficult. This hardship should only make him more determined. He won't give up. He will endure and fix this if he can.

That was the strength of his heart.

 

…

 

Ikkaku was left absolutely distraught by Yumichika's absence. He'd moped around the garden night after night hoping that he would return, but no luck. He'd told Yumichika he loved him more than anything in all the world, and he did. What made it all the worse was that he was sure Yumichika loved him too - and now he was gone forever.

When his mother began asking after his failing health and poor appetite, he had to tell his parents that the fae he loved was gone and wouldn't return. His father hadn't seemed very upset, more annoyed that Ikkaku was in such a state over it than anything else.

Ikkaku didn't want to talk to anyone, could barely sleep or eat. He had no energy to do any of the things he used to love doing. After the first few days of rage and tears, he just sat alone in his misery, listless.

"Play with me, Prince Baldy," Yachiru pestered, pulling him by the ears as he sat on the ground at the cliffside out behind the castle. He paid her little attention, subdued by sadness.

"Sorry, squirt," he murmured, looking out on the waves. "Not up to it today."

His father eventually got fed up with his pathetically bad mood and sent him off to see the princess, and Ikkaku knew that everyone hoped that seeing Nemu would cheer him up and help him forget what they thought was naught but a youthful dalliance. They hoped it would liven him up again, would snap him out of it.

But Ikkaku knew, dramatic or not, he would not forget Yumichika. He would yearn for him and miss him for as long as he lived.

When he was there in the Fugai, he was the quiet one for a change, brooding and silent, lost in thought. He was still gentle with Nemu, and did not treat her cruelly. He still took her hand in his and walked with her, but he was struck with a sadness that made the gloomy atmosphere of the swamp crushing and stale.

One afternoon, Princess Nemu led him into a room and closed the door behind her. Ikkaku vaguely realized that they were completely alone together for the very first time. He didn't feel excited by this though; he felt drained and lonely.

He turned from her in silence and sat on a bench in front of her piano after she beckoned him next to her. She played a dark tumultuous song that reminded him of the sea and the many hours he'd spent looking out at the waves back home.

"Do you play?"

"No." She coaxed him try to play, and Ikkaku let her delicate hand take his towards the keys. Afterwards, he offered a half-smile, and withdrew his hand.

He looked around, noting mildly that still no one had come to check on them. Princess Nemu had told him once that it was a mistake to think that her father wouldn't use her as a bargaining chip or a diversion or bait in any given situation.

He knows his father has talked to King Kurotsuchi about his reservations. Perhaps they thought that if her honor were put in question, he would go through with marrying her. He realized then that he might just have to, now that Yumichika was gone. But he can't, can he. He still hasn't made her smile.

"Prince Ikkaku," Nemu asked of him as they moved to a sofa. She poured them each a glass of wine and perched next to him, her face as solemn and blank as ever. Ikkaku tasted his drink carefully and then set it down, staring off distractedly. "Would you do me a turn?"

This struck him as strange, as Princess Nemu has never asked anything of him before.

In as many words as he'd ever heard her speak at one time before, she explained the area of study she devoted herself to, the greatest mystery of humankind that science couldn't seem to uncover: the secret to eternal life. She implored him then, "There is one such tree in Zaraki, is there not?"

"Well... there is, but..." Ikkaku muttered, listening as she asked him whether he might get one of the golden apples for her.

Human suffering might be ended, the secrets to curing old age and death, all of it could be taken away if she might study one of these fruits. Ikkaku didn't know about all that, but even if only to please her, he wondered if he should.

His father might not be happy if he were to honor her request, but then again, he was sure to be more unhappy if Ikkaku were to turn this into more of a diplomatic incident. He's already caused so much trouble, telling him he was going to run away and be with Yumichika. That was a dream that wasn't going to come true, was it.

He might miss Yumichika for the rest of his life, but that was a burden he had to live with, as a future king. He had to go on with life, had to make the best with what he had. Even he could not always get exactly what he wanted. He had to think of others first, no matter how much it felt like the death of his very soul to let go of that dream of his.

Ikkaku looked on her with sad eyes, her black lacy dress and gloved hands, and saw that she was still wearing the necklace he'd given her, glittering dark and red.

"I'll think on it," he told her.

After much deliberation, Ikkaku decided that he would.

When they arrived home, he went into the garden and waited and waited one last time, but the peahens didn't come. He didn't know why he'd hoped, but he had, and it was a disappointment just like the very first night they hadn't showed.

When the morning dawn started cresting over the garden wall, he called his guards and they came with chains. It was well and truly over then.

Sick at heart, he raised his sword against the dragon, who once again snapped and hissed at his approach. He and a few of his men fought with the beast, slashed at its hide until one of them could chain its head, and then the lot of them wrestled it out of the garden away from the tree.

Ikkaku pried up the last of its claws, desperately holding to the trunk, digging into the ground. "C'mon buddy, time to let go," he muttered, at last prying it loose. The dragon began to thrash and keen, and he turned his back on it, ordering that they send it to the dungeons to be imprisoned until it could be sent away to the East, where dragons live free.

Ikkaku stood under the tree, its trunk seeming much smaller without the dragon coiled around it. This is where he and Yumichika have lain together, night after night, in the magical golden glow. It really did feel like waking up out of a dream.

He reached out and picked an apple, pulling it until the stem was plucked from the branch. He shined it on his shirt and held it out.

"Princess." When he brought the apple to Nemu, she accepted it into her hands.

Princess Nemu smiled – a slow and small thing, but unmistakably a smile. She thanked him, and kept smiling.

Ikkaku had completed the last task and was properly engaged to be married, but he felt no joy, only sorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

_Once there was a little boy whose heart was kind but weak. In his youth, to give him bravery, he sold his soul to a great demon, and as he grew into a man with the demon at his side, he became prone to ambition, greed, and jealousy._

_The happiness of his friends, loyalty, compassion, it all meant nothing to him anymore, for little did he know, that day long ago, the demon had eaten out his heart and taken its place._

…

  


It wasn’t Ikkaku’s wish to embarrass Princess Nemu by breaking their engagement. It wasn’t his wish to disgrace his family and his country by backing out of his responsibilities. However, he could not overcome his heart.

He had come this far, had at last made Nemu smile and the two of them could be married, but what once would have brought him great excitement now meant nothing to him, for there was another there in his heart that could not be forgotten as long as he lived.

He'd tried to accept the bleakness of his situation, tried to be a good son and a good fiance, tried to take the responsibility that he knew he must as Zaraki's prince, but the sadness that had overtaken upon Yumichika's absence, it was unbearable.

A month after the announcement of their engagement, Ikkaku could no longer stand it, and became determined to seek the peahens all over the world. He was going to dedicate his life to finding them, no matter how hopeless the search, no matter the consequences.

When he came upon this idea, he went to his father’s office and told him his intention immediately. “I’m leaving, Kempachi.”

“Leaving where, boy?” his dad asked with some exasperation.

“I’m going to find Yumichika,” he said, and where once he’d been scared to defy the Kempachi, he no longer cared if his father might shout or grow angry or throw him out of the family. He no longer cared if he had to abdicate and struggle to survive as a common man. He no longer cared about anything.

The Kempachi gave a long sigh then, giving him a pitying eye, considering him and his stubborn expression for a long time. Ikkaku knew that the Kempachi was so sick of him being a sad sack that he didn’t know what to do with him at this point - but as much as he regretted letting his father down, regretted frustrating him and disappointing him, he could not change his heart, could not overcome those feelings. He missed Yumichika night and day with an everaching loneliness.

“You’d been so enamored with Princess Nemu,” his father noted calmly, “For months and months you mooned over her and begged me to arrange that you two could meet. What changed?” Ikkaku folded his arms behind his back and looked at his feet for a second, because he did truly regret the scandal he would cause, the embarrassment he would cause her by leaving her at the altar. She did not deserve such scorn.

“Do you not like her anymore? You don’t want to marry her at all?” King Kenpachi pressed.

His father was trying to talk him out of it, trying to evoke remorse from him, this Ikkaku knew. What the Kempachi didn't and couldn't understand was that he _did_ feel remorse, but no amount of remorse or regret would change his mind. 

Ikkaku stood there stubbornly and would not be moved. “I’ll start my journey by the end of this week.”

In the following days, the Kempachi tried to talk to him many times, through understanding, even using guilt, but Ikkaku would not change his mind. During diplomatic meetings, when he was training, at dinner time – any time his father saw him, he would say something, he would try to reason with him and convince him to stay.

“A short idyll is easily forgotten, my son. Stay and I’ll find you another girl in my empire, any that you wish for.”

“There’s none I wish for but my sweet love.”

“Ikkaku, seriously,” his dad said, but Ikkaku just turned his nose up and continued stuffing his face with meat and beer. The Kempachi gave an undignified groan, but Ikkaku merely scowled. Changing tactics, the king grumbled, “How your mother will weep when she hears you’re going away.”

“I will not be moved,” Ikkaku refused stubbornly.

Even threats, though the prospect saddened him, would not change his mind. 

"And what of Zaraki?" his father snapped. "Is it to fall to the hands of just any man once I am old and weak? I have no other child but you." Ikkaku pressed his lips together tightly, not meeting his father's gaze boring into the side of his head.  

"You would throw away your crown on a fae who toyed with you for one summer." He knows his father thinks him foolish, thinks that Yumichika had teased him, played with his affections and then left him wanting, but Ikkaku doesn't believe that. He'd given up his doubt when he'd decided to do this. He'd given up everything.

"I would throw away my life."

"Our only boy, our only boy in the world," Kenpachi muttered. Ikkaku grit his teeth, grinding his jaws together. "Gone away to die like a fool."

"I wouldn't ask to come back after the disgrace I've caused the family name." Ikkaku met his father square in the eye. "But when I find him and we're together again, I will send word of what's become of me. So that mother doesn't worry."

"A fae, my boy chasing after a fae, where have we gone wrong."  
  
  
"I will find him at any cost. I will."  
  


It went on in this way for days, but in vain. He would not listen to his parents’ advice and made preparations to leave. The day he went, Ikkaku was displeased to see that his ailing mother had gotten out of bed to say goodbye to him when she should have been resting. She enfolded him in her arms and wished him safe travels, and Ikkaku hugged her back, shooting a glaring eye to his father, who stood to the side with his arms crossed and a surly expression.

“Goodbye, Kempachi,” he said, bowing to the king when he stepped back from his mother’s embrace. More than anything, he wished he'd never had to disappoint him, wished he still felt as though he deserved to be called his son.

“Careful, kid,” was his reply. Ikkaku nodded, and felt a heavy slap to his shoulder, and with it, relief to his heavy heart. He met the Kempachi's eyes and found them regretful, but not cold.

  
    "You hurry back," he ordered.   
  


                      "I will, father."  
  


With that, he turned and walked away from his family, readying to leave his home, perhaps for a month, perhaps a year, perhaps forever. It was a lot easier after that goodbye, knowing that he could come back, that he could always come home. 

He wouldn’t be alone in his search. Captain Hisagi was being sent with him by his parents. Once they'd accepted that there was no convincing him not to leave, they'd fretted over him terribly, their only boy, out in the world on his own. Hisagi was there to keep an eye on him. Ikkaku wasn’t terribly concerned with this. If Hisagi tried to convince him to turn back or slowed him down at all, Ikkaku wouldn’t be swayed, and would journey on alone.

Hisagi won’t be such a bad companion to have with him, besides. Despite Ikkaku’s terrible temper, dark moods, and inconsolable grief in the past weeks, Hisagi had remained there patiently through this hard time, hardly leaving his side. He hadn't particularly helped Ikkaku feel better, but then, nothing had, and he shouldn't scorn the loyalty of a faithful knight.

And, if only to make his parents feel better, to ease the pain he'd caused then by leaving, even if only a little bit, he would let Hisagi come with him to watch over him.

The hour they were ready, he kissed his mother goodbye one more time and then went out into the world to find the peahens.

 

…

  


Where months before Renji had been excited and happy to be accompany the family to the Fugai, when he was taken on the journey with his mourning prince, his attitude had long since changed with his current state of abject misery.

He suspected this was yet another cruelty for Captain Hisagi to arrange things in this way – not to mention a way to keep an eye on him and keep him from telling on him to the king or something. Couldn’t have that – and so, in punishment and shame, Renji was brought along behind their horses, beaten black and blue and tied at the hands, and on top of it, muzzled like a criminal. It took Renji back to the horrible terror-filled days of his youth after being captured by slavers.

Renji didn’t know why Hisagi hadn’t just had him thrown in the dungeon, rather than going to all this trouble to torture him psychologically, but well, it made a little sense that he’d brought him – after all, _somebody_ had to do their chores while they traveled.

Prince Ikkaku didn’t spare much of a glance for him, too off in his own world to pay attention much beyond what he’d been told by Captain Hisagi. It all was rather horrible, but Renji’s broken spirit had mended and filled with an unquenchable fire. Perhaps it was the red flower, the thread that had given him hope and told him that he _must_ live in order to one day find that person on the other end, or perhaps it was the righteous anger knowing that Hisagi had betrayed him and the prince, had brought him so much unhappiness.

Yes, Renji would live, and would keep that fire and that heart alive. He had to hope that this might be put right. His situation was rather dire, but at least, even in chains, he was here to watch over the prince. Even if Ikkaku thought him a traitor, Renji’s loyalty would not waver - he would watch over him for sure.

So Renji trudged back there in the dirt and glared at Hisagi’s back, glared and glared, bitterness bubbling hot and hateful in his heart.

How could he have come to treat him so horribly? Renji has not deserved this cruelty. He has not deserved Hisagi to lie about him. Look at him there, pretending to be Prince Ikkaku’s friend, when he was the one who’d chased his great love away – it made Renji’s blood burn. At least his attempts to befriend the prince haven’t seemed to be working very well thus far. The prince kept a degree of emotional distance between himself and the Captain, largely rebuffing his efforts at fraternizing, which gave Renji some hope.

He wanted Captain Hisagi to pay for his crimes, to face justice. He knew that Hisagi had betrayed them. He’d used black magic, hadn’t he. Renji had seen it. He’d suspected as much after hearing him in the barracks that night, and then seeing the dark presence eat up the fae’s hair in payment – and if that hadn’t been enough, the way Hisagi has treated him since then and how he’d used Prince Ikkaku’s misery to his advantage, trying to move in and be his new best friend, Renji was on to his games. Renji didn’t trust him, not one bit.

“Where are we searching, M’lord?” Hisagi asked at last after riding for some hours, until Prince Ikkaku was in a better mood. He was still a bit sullen after saying goodbye to their majesties, the king and queen, but his expression held a quiet determination. Renji lifted his head a little bit then, listening.

“We go to the East where the fae live,” the prince said, not even looking at Hisagi. “Perhaps he’ll be there.”

“Good idea, my prince.”

They traveled for weeks and weeks. Renji's back had scabbed over and scarred, but his feet ached and bled since he couldn’t stop to take rocks out of his boots with his wrists tied together. Hisagi would only unbind him long enough to start a fire, chop wood, take care of their horses, eat a little bit, and then he’d spend his nights tied to a tree like a disobedient dog. Each time they made camp for the night and Captain Hisagi came to unbind his hands and take the rags out of his mouth, Renji would remain silent, but glared viciously.

The sights were amazing though.

The moment they at last came through the last of the foothills through brigand country and into the East, Renji immediately felt this amazing fragrant breeze hit his forehead, cool and pleasant. As they rode down from the hills, the valley and the sky opening up before them, tears ran down Renji’s dirty face, soaking into the strap between his teeth, and he sniffled and wept to himself pitifully.

This place, this wonderful place – he’d stared at the gates in the poverty of his youth for so long, watched so many people jump in desperation to escape the desolate wasteland of the Rukon and be shot viciously with arrows at the foot of the border wall. All this time, people had tried to come to this place, because the East was the place of hope, with flowing water and fresh crops, because the sun rises in the East.

He’d been kept out from birth, and here he was. God, he was finally here.

It was as beautiful as all the wildest stories that had come from the most outlandish ravings of men gone insane from starvation. This side of the mountain was favored by the ocean currents, by the direction of the winds, and the sun shone on this side and lit up the countryside for the better part of the day. The trees seemed to sing, the grass alight with the sun. There were flowers dancing in the breeze about his feet, the sweet beauty of it all causing him to hiccup and sob.

It was as if he’d been wearing a shade over his eyes for his entire life, rendering the colors drab, until he stepped out into the light for the first time. The ground of the path even felt softer under his aching feet, it even seemed to glow and sparkle golden brown in the sun.

Renji’s tears eventually dried and he hungrily gazed on everything with the wonder and amazement of a young boy. In the distance, he could see animals in pastures dotting the hillsides, little cottages, the spires of a palace, and beyond that another, and another beyond that.

At last, they seemed on the verge of making their first stop in one of the many kingdoms peppering the countryside so the prince could make some inquiries, ask some favors, and try to find out where his love had gone. Renji isn’t sure how long they’ve been traveling, but he thinks it’s been weeks.

Now that they’re here though, Renji thinks he doesn’t care how long he’s dragged along like a dog on a leash. He thinks he could stay here forever.

 

…  


It takes Ichigo several weeks to find time again, but when he does, he wanders out to the same spot, and sure enough, when he finds the lake, the boat was still there.

He’d had a lot of time to think about this during the endless hours stooping in the field with his aching back, with the sun beating down on his neck, with his feet and legs and hands perpetually damp. At last he’d decided what he would do.

The boat held a single wooden oar, had no seat panels, and looked absolutely ancient, but he was going to try and see what, if anything, was out on the other side of the lake.

Ichigo held his breath and put out his foot, gripping the grass on the sides of the bank in both fists as he leaned his body down and tested his weight in it, seeing if the old creaky looking thing would hold him. When it did, he rested himself inside it for a moment, feeling the way it bobbed slightly in the water. Then he kicked at the end of the chain, against the post, until the rusty links snapped, and he floated out over the still and foggy water.

Clumsily working the oar, Ichigo slowly paddled himself along, peering through the darkness, and sure enough, a small island came into view, dense trees surrounding the shore. He made landing and dragged the boat onto the little stretch of sand on the shore, and walked into the woods. There were plenty of trees for him to chop out here, if he was willing to go through the effort of transporting the logs back and forth in the boat. 

Before he knew it, he’d gotten himself thoroughly lost under the light of the moon, wandering through the sparse clearings and the thick forest. It wasn’t long before he began to hear distant howls and catch sight of eerie figures moving through the trees.

“Oni,” he whispered, his mouth going dry and his heart beginning to pound. He had no weapon with him.

He began to breathe hard and stumble as he ran through the woods in the dark, his neck prickling as he could sense he was being pursued. At last he burst out into a moonlit clearing at the foot of a tall stone tower. If he'd had the time to think, he may have stopped and been surprised to see the first sign of any human presence on the island, but terror drowned that all out until much later.

He threw himself in some rose bushes near the base and held himself as still as possible, tried to quiet his panicked and heavy breathing.

Ichigo peered out of the brambles and watched as dark masses with eerie white faces moved through the distant trees. He waited until the sinister cries faded and then made his way back to the shore.

He looked back several times however. He thought he’d heard singing for a moment.

 

…

 

Ikkaku didn’t have much of a concrete plan to find Yumichika, really, but he didn’t let that stop him. He wasn’t afraid or resentful or distrusting of the East or Easterners like his father was, and wasn’t averse to asking them for help, but then again, he’d never been here before, and didn’t know where he should go. After all the tales Yumichika had regaled him with about the Far East, he'd had this vague idea that this was where he'd find Yumichika. Now that he was here though, it seemed a little more difficult.  

He did at least know some people from around here though, as they’d paid court to his parents before. He’s sure he’ll come across someone eventually. Maybe one of them will be able to tell him where he could search for Yumichika.

When he and Hisagi had travelled a long time, they came upon a lake, in the midst of which was a rich palace, and in the palace an empress said to be the most beautiful woman ever to live.  
  


Ikkaku remembered her well enough: Tiger Empress.  
  
  
He didn’t know about the most beautiful woman to ever live. Where he’d grown up, he’d been conditioned to find long, dark, gleaming hair the most beautiful, and hers was blonde like yellow gold. She was older than him by quite a bit too, in middle age by now, but admittedly, still very beautiful.

He remembered her from when he was a young child, luxurious and talkative, and in the time he’d grown into a man, she hadn’t changed much. They ride up to her castle, and when Ikkaku meets her on her throne, which was a humongous pile of decorative pillows on a raised platform, there she was, lounging about, her kimono falling about her shoulders, barely tied enough in the front to cover her considerable bosom.

Hisagi stood as straight as a post at his side, but Ikkaku slouched, unintimidated. His father didn’t trust her, but Ikkaku remembered her to be a generous and merry soul – that was an Easterner for you.

“What brings you boys here, so far from the North?” she asked in curiosity.

“Tiger Empress, please tell me about the nine golden peahens,” Ikkaku importuned, “Do you know about them?”

She replied that she did, and Ikkaku straightened up in hope, perking up. He soon found out that the nine peahens came to bathe nightly in the lake. Once she told him this, she began to try to persuade him with these words: “Never mind those nine peahens, my son, I have many beautiful girls and an abundance of wealth. It will all remain yours.”

Tiger Empress had refused alliance so many times with the Hokutan – who probably wanted to join with any area in the East to further enrich the Kuchiki family through trade, but never mind that – that it should’ve been a tempting offer for a daughter of hers, but as soon as Ikkaku heard where the peahens were, he would not listen to another word.

In the morning, he ordered Renji, who seemed rather forlorn and subdued, to get the horses ready to go to the lake. Ikkaku didn’t really know why he’d been brought along. According to Hisagi, he was a traitor to the crown, but Ikkaku hadn’t asked why, too worried about seeing Yumichika again to concern himself with a single thing.

 

…

 

_Once upon a time, a beautiful girl was so loved by a man that he put her away in a tower where no one could ever harm her. She was protected there by a magical spell, but in turn, she may never leave. Placed in the middle of a lake that let into the swamps and the rice fields of the West, she did not see another living soul for years and years._

_In her loneliness, she passed her time singing and sitting at a magical loom, weaving an endless tapestry, beautiful and sad and filled with pictures of her childhood friend. Cursed not to look out the window, the most she could enjoy of the sun was feeling it on her back. If she faced it, if she looked out on the earth, she would die._

_The single mirror in front of her let her see behind her out the window, and day after day, she waited for a passing bird, for the heavy clouds to part and show the blue of the sky. Day after day she hoped for a visitor, someone to talk to, to play with, to tell her what was going on out there in the world._

_Once, after many years of loneliness in her tower, she heard someone pass by outside. When she heard the humming of a young man, the Blue Lady turned and looked out the window and saw him in the clearing, chopping wood near her tower._

_Immediately, the mirror cracked into a million bits._

 

_“The curse is come upon me,” she whispered._

 

_. . ._

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Before the prince and his friends started for the lake, the Empress called the prince’s servant to her and gave him a magical whistle. She told him when the time approached for the peahens to come to the lake, do you secretly look out and blow the whistle behind your master’s neck, he will immediately fall asleep and will not see them. The servant listened her, took the whistle, and did as she told him._

_When they arrived at the shore of the lake, the servant calculated the time when the peahens would arrive, blew the whistle behind the prince’s neck, and he immediately fell sound asleep, as if he were dead._

_He’d scarcely fallen asleep when the peahens arrived. Eight of them settled on the lake, and the ninth perched on the ground, walking over to the prince. It began to try and awaken him. It became a lovely extraordinary being in a royal green and blue haori, hair long and unbound._  
  


_‘Arise, my birdie. Arise, my lamb. Arise, my dove.’ He rubbed a gentle hand over the prince’s head, but the prince heard nothing and slept on as if dead._   
  


_When the peahens finished bathing, they all flew away, and the prince awoke. He asked the servant, ‘Did they come?’_

_The servant replied, ‘They did come, my prince,’ and he told him about how a beautiful creature tried to wake him._

_When the unhappy prince heard this, he was ready to kill himself from pain and anger. Why hadn’t he woken up? Why hadn’t he awoken and leapt into the arms of his love? What if he never saw him again, oh woe and misery!_

 

_. . ._

  


Renji had been untied for the greater part of the night, but strangely, he was so enchanted by the sights around him, the way the moon lit up the luscious meadows and forests, that he didn’t even spare a thought for running away.

He returned from the woods refreshed, having been sent to chop firewood. He was still stiff all over from many hours spent walking, tied up, but the strength of his resolve hadn’t wavered. He would not run away and leave his prince to travel alone with that traitor. He would prove himself to Prince Ikkaku at any cost.

Yet fascinated by the sheer beauty of the world around him, Renji was almost able to enjoy the hard labor of chopping and stripping trees. However, his mood plunged when he made his way back, dragging logs on a tarp, to see Prince Ikkaku raging and pacing the shore of the lake in the light of the dawn.

He watched as Captain Hisagi was sent off like a dog with his tail between his legs, rubbing his head, having been cuffed around the ears by the unhappy prince. Renji hauled in the wood, staring open-mouthed as the prince stomped back and forth and promptly turned on him in his fury. Renji flinched back in surprise.

“And what were you doing?! Why didn’t _you_ do something! Fucking useless-” the prince snapped. Renji held his hands up as Prince Ikkaku banged his fists to his temples and seemed about to collapse, rage combining with sorrow in a tumultuous mix. “I’ll never see him again,” he croaked. “God, I’ll never…”

“My prince, it’s alright,” Renji tried, approaching cautiously, hands out, wary that he might lash out again and beat him on the head like he had Hisagi. “Is this not the right place?” Renji wondered, aghast that the prince was so distraught. Trying to comfort him, he promised sincerely. “We will keep searching, my lord.”

“This _is_ the place, I missed him!” Prince Ikkaku hollered, incensed. “I fell asleep!” 

“It’s okay, Prince Ikkaku, it’s alright, we’ll try again,” Renji insisted, drawing closer as the prince at last stopped pacing, digging his nails into his scalp. “We’ll keep looking. We’ll be at your side until you find him.” He dared to lay a hand on Prince Ikkaku’s back. When the prince didn’t immediately strike him or otherwise lash out, accepting his touch, Renji patted him once or twice, timidly. After a few moments, to his relief, the prince seemed to calm, seemed comforted.

He at last sighed and straightened up, brushing Renji off. He cracked his neck and looked at the horizon, considering the sunrise, and decided, “I’m going to rest now. I’m determined to stay awake tonight.” Renji nodded his head and watched him for a little while, hands curling and uncurling.

When he saw Hisagi staring at him from across the clearing in a combination of amazement and bitterness, Renji stared back for a few moments before returning to chopping the logs into short pieces for the fire.

 

. . .

 

_The next evening, they visited the shore of the lake again, but the servant calculated the time he was going to blow the whistle behind the prince’s neck, and immediately the prince fell asleep as if he were dead. The prince had barely fallen asleep when the peahens arrived. Eight settled on the lake and the ninth alit nearby, changing into the lovely creature._

_‘Rise, my happiness, and greet your sweet love.’ The prince slept on as if he were dead, hearing nothing._

_When the great spirit failed to wake him and the peahens were about to fly away again, it turned to the servant and told him, ‘When your master wakes, tell him that tomorrow it will once more be possible for him to see us, but after that, never more.’_

_On saying this, he transformed into a peacock and took flight, and the others from the lake after him. They’d scarcely flown away when the prince awakened, and upon realizing that he’d fallen asleep again, he asked the servant in a panic, ‘Did they come?’_

_The servant told him, ‘They did come, and eight of them settled on the lake, and the ninth became a beautiful creature that tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t wake up. As it left, it told me that you will see them again here once more tomorrow, but never more.’_

_When the prince heard this, he was ready to kill himself in his unhappiness, and he did not know what to do for sorrow._

 

_. . ._

  


Renji returned at dawn with more wood and some grass he’d gathered to feed the two horses, and this time he was there to listen as Captain Hisagi explained what he’d seen the night before to the prince, who was in the middle of a particularly violent fit of misery, growing more upset with each passing word.  
  
Renji watched as Hisagi began to cower back as he told him how his faerie love had come to him and tried to wake him up, and then flown away, hours later. He cowered back from the prince’s temper, but there was a cold satisfaction in his eyes that made Renji suspicious.

That afternoon, Renji was allowed to sit nearby as they bummed around the campfire with the miserable prince, who refused to eat. As Hisagi coaxed him to take just a few bites or to speak rather than brood, Renji, sitting quietly and eating a piece of bread, noticed something as Hisagi leaned forward. Around his neck was a cord, and underneath his shirt was a short piece of wood with a hole on the end, like a little flute.

Untrusting and resentful, Renji decided that when night fell and Hisagi was to send him off to gather firewood, he would not do so. He would stay behind, hiding in the trees, and would see what Hisagi was up to.

Sure enough, when he was sent away that evening, he pretended that he went away, and then snuck back to the shore of the lake, and watched.

That night, Prince Ikkaku mounted his horse and rode down along the shore, and in order to not fall asleep, kept the horse continually in motion. He’d said earlier that he was determined to stay awake and see Yumichika. Each time he yawned, he doused himself in cold water from the lake and jogged in place, hit himself, then mounted his horse again. Renji put a hand to his mouth at how clever this idea was, but cast an eye to Hisagi, who seemed pleased with himself for some reason.

Remaining alert, Renji snuck along through the trees, settling in the grass on his stomach where he could clearly see them and the smooth surface of the lake, still as glass and reflecting the beautifully silver moon. Prince Ikkaku rode back and forth in the long bank of white sand, looking up to the sky in hope every few moments.

At a seemingly random moment, Hisagi suddenly stood up from the place he’d sat in the sand near a large log, sunbleached and glowing in the moonlight as white as a bone. Renji watched as he walked towards the prince and his horse, neither of whom seemed to notice him at all. Hisagi walked along by Prince Ikkaku’s side for nearly a full minute before he pulled the whistle out of his shirt and blew it behind the prince’s neck.

Prince Ikkaku immediately leaned forward on his horse, then flopped completely to the sandy ground with a heavy thump. The fall did not wake him, and he lay there absolutely motionless. Renji nearly shouted in outrage at the sight, at first thinking Hisagi had killed him, but then the prince gave a loud snore.

 _‘Asleep,’_ he thought, heart filled with ire when Hisagi looked so carelessly on the prince’s limp form, sitting down in the sand again not far away, leaving him to sprawl in the dirt as a corpse would. Hisagi! Why was he doing this?! He was the one keeping the prince from seeing his faerie love – why, why was he doing this? Renji didn’t understand. It was such a cruel and unnecessary thing to do!

Prince Ikkaku’s horse moved in an awkward circle, lowering its head to snuffle at its rider’s face, but the prince didn’t even flinch at the soft tickly nose pressing against his cheek, sleeping so still that he may as well have been dead.

Not five seconds passed of the prince lying there on his back when a great flapping of wings drew Renji’s attention. Over the distant trees, a flock of large birds flew up, feathers glimmering in the light of the moon. As they came closer, he could see that they were the same nine golden peahens that had visited him and the prince in the garden for months on end.

Eight of the birds settled on the lake shore, chattering and chirping, splashing one another in the sand as they ruffled their wings in the dirt. The ninth, the silver peacock, strutted towards Prince Ikkaku’s motionless body and transformed in a glow of silver light.

Renji watched as Yumichika, Ikkaku’s lover, beautiful and bathed in a silvery glow that didn’t seem to come completely from the light of the moon, approached the last few steps on bare feet. Now short-haired and clad in a simple white yukata, he looked at Ikkaku with an unreadable expression, cautiously drawing close to his side, as if confused by his silence and stillness.

Renji glanced over and saw Hisagi watching in open amazement. The two of them gazed on as Yumichika knelt in the sand at Ikkaku’s side and implored him, “If you do love me true, awake and kiss me.” Ikkaku did not respond in any way, lying motionless on his back but for his breaths.

He took Ikkaku’s head in tender palms and turned it up towards his, leaning down to bring their lips close together and peer into his sleeping face, but Ikkaku did not wake up. He slept on as if he were dead, hearing nothing, blissfully unaware.

The sorrow in Yumichika’s face made Renji’s heart clench. Fae were not meant to frown in sadness, were not meant to dim in grief. He remembered hearing that a tear from a fairy eye could make the whole world weep.

Yumichika sat there at Ikkaku’s side and watched him for many hours, until the glow of the sun began to return to the horizon. When the peahens had all had their dust baths, naps, and played in the lake, they readied to leave, chirping at Yumichika and bustling around him.

When the flock was about to fly away again, Yumichika stood and turned to Hisagi directly and told him very coldly – turning Renji’s blood to ice, because it was as if he knew Hisagi was responsible for Ikkaku’s sleep – “When your master wakes up, tell him to roll the under peg on the upper, and then he will find me.”

Then he turned his back and transformed into a peacock and promptly flew away, and the eight peahens followed him in a flurry of joyful song and flapping wings. Renji watched as they flew off into the distance, towards the rising sun, and at last disappeared over the line of trees.

Almost the moment Renji lost sight of them, the prince woke up with a horrible scream, snapping into a sitting position with a start, his body flinging sand about as he looked around in panic, his breath quickened in despair. He watched as the horrible realization came over Prince Ikkaku’s face, and his hands scrabbled over the claw-prints in the sand, the fluffy down left behind by Yumichika’s friends.

He banged his hands on the lakeshore, and Renji could feel his misery, he’d fallen asleep again, he’d never see his sweet Yumichika again!

Hisagi stood and approached the prince where he knelt in the dirt. Prince Ikkaku turned on him in a rage, demanding, “Did they come?”

After a silent moment of hesitation, Hisagi replied, “They did-” Ikkaku wailed at that, heartbroken. Renji felt torn apart. “One became a lovely creature, and it told me to tell you to roll the upper peg on the under one and that you would find him.”

  
     When Renji heard that, he was consumed by rage.  
  


Prince Ikkaku howled and howled, beating the ground with his hands. “Yumichika’s gone forever! And all because I couldn’t keep my eyes opened!” he cried. “I’ll never see him again! Oh god!” His head hung in sorrow. “What will I do?”

Renji stood and quietly came out of the woods, eyes steely. He walked straight up to the prince’s side, ignoring the way Hisagi took a step back in surprise, and crouched next to Ikkaku, placing a hand on the raging, wailing prince’s shoulder. Ikkaku wasn’t consoled.

He stood and turned to Hisagi, and with every ounce of fire he could muster, shouted, “You’ve been lying!”

Hisagi’s face pinched, his brow coming down in anger. “How dare you talk to me like that!” He swiped for Renji, who stepped back, pulling away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted. “You traitor, you cowardly traitor!” he accused.

Prince Ikkaku, ceasing his mournful cries, stood, expression dark and solemn as the grave. Renji drew back a little, confidence flagging. “What’s this?” he demanded, voice low and unforgiving.

“Captain Hisagi,” Renji told him with a pleading tone, “He’s been lying to you, he’s been putting you to sleep every night so you won’t see Yumichika!” Throwing an arm towards Hisagi in accusation, he continued, “And just now, he reversed those words to be cruel! Under peg on the upper, that’s what Yumichika said, not the other way around! He’s trying to trick you!”

He stood there, chest heaving. He didn’t say ‘sir’ or grovel or beg, he just stared Ikkaku right in the eyes, panting for breath. He hadn’t talked to him like that since they’d been very young boys. Surely the prince could see that even now, Renji has always been his loyal friend?

Ikkaku gave him a long look, eyes cold and unreadable. “Have you gone mad?” Hisagi at last broke the silence, grabbing a handful of Renji’s hair and shaking him. He yelped, hands going to his head at the sharp pain in his scalp. He looked towards Prince Ikkaku but his hopes were dashed when he turned away.  
  


   Renji’s heart dropped. The prince didn’t believe him?

 

“M’lord, as I’ve said, this one needs to be treated harshly or he steps out of his place,” Hisagi hissed, shaking him again.

“I’ve come to see what you mean.”  
  


And Renji couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t accept it, feeling nothing but a hollow empty shell where his heart had used to be. All of Hisagi’s duplicitous actions that had incriminated him before in the past weeks and undermined the prince’s trust in him, it had all destroyed his chances of warning him now that Hisagi was behind all of it.

In a wild fit, Renji ripped the whistle from around Hisagi’s neck and called after the prince desperately, “He’s had this around his neck, he’s been using it to put you to sleep!” Prince Ikkaku stopped, but did not turn, and helplessly, Renji cried, “Magic!” holding it out.

When the prince heard this, he drew his sword and turned slowly. Renji went still and silent in terror, cowering back as the prince turned on the both of them, holding the sword out, level with their necks.

 

     “Kneel.”

 

Renji dropped to his knees immediately despite Hisagi’s tight grip on his hair. In all his years of knowing the prince, in all the years Ikkaku had grown out of his friendship and began treating him with indifference, he has never heard him speak thus. Like a monster, like the hand of death.

Renji’s hands shook as he stared at the sand next to Captain Hisagi’s feet. He was too scared to move, too scared to cry, his heart pounding so wildly that he felt lightheaded. He was gonna’ kill him. Ikkaku was gonna’ kill him; his best and only friend. It was all over.  
  


“Traitor,” he heard Ikkaku say, his tone dark and powerful, that of a future Kempachi.  
  


Trembling, Renji put his forehead to the ground, his breath coming in panicked rasps. He flinched and held still as he felt a boot on the back of his head, digging him further into the sand, suffocating him as grit pressed into his eyes and nose and his mouth.

  
    He heard Hisagi give a small derisive snort. “How low will you sink, boy?”

  
Renji screwed his eyes shut in his last moments, pulse racing, and then startled badly when he heard a heavy thump, the wet chop of a head. The shock was so intense, he startled so badly that it took several moments to realize that he had not been struck with the blade; he was still alive.

The foot came off his head and Hisagi collapsed next to him in the sand, his body coming down like a ton of bricks and sprawling across the ground. Renji peered upwards and then scrambled back in horror, hands over his face as he quickly shut his eyes.  
  


      Ikkaku has cut off Shuuhei’s head.  
  


It rolled, fresh and heavy, blood gushing from his neck and soaking into the white sand, soaking Renji’s legs and feet and making him gasp and gag uncontrollably. His body lay there limply in the sand of the lake. As his head fell still, coming to a stop, a large shadowy force came out, whooshing off towards the Junrinan with a ghastly shriek of laughter.

 _  
  “Free,” _ it cackled, _“Free!”_  
  


Renji raised his eyes to Ikkaku, standing there, sword bloody, cheek bloody, his eyes shining red with rage, and Renji could feel an indomitable spirit, that of a child brought to the mountain.

The prince put his sword away, but Renji remained on his knees, placing his forehead to the dirt again, hands out on either side of him. “Your majesty,” he rasped, lips wet with saliva, his throat tight with illness. “Forgive me,” he begged. “Not to relieve me of pain, for I will suffer more if you do.”  
  


“Rise.”  
  


“I cannot lift my head for shame, highness.”  
  


“Then I order you to stand.”  
  


Renji stood, and, upon the sight of the corpse of a man who had once been his friend, his lover even, he doubled over, holding his stomach and choking on vomit. Tears ran from his eyes pitifully, and no matter how he looked away, he was unable to block out the image of Shuuhei – _Shuuhei_ – his head, his dead face there, staring at him. Dead, dead and gone forever.

Of all the resentment and hatred he’d felt for him for betraying the prince, for betraying him and treating him like a dog for his own advantage, he’d never wished him dead.

Renji stood there on wobbling legs, panting for breath and wiping his mouth, but would not lift his eyes. Ikkaku stood across from him solemnly, looking him in the face for once, but Renji would not return his gaze, too ashamed.  
  


“I thank you for your loyalty,” he said. “You have always been kind to me no matter my cruelty to you.”  
  


“And now on account of my foolishness, you’ll never see Yumichika again,” Renji rasped. “Shuuhei, because of me-”  
  


“Enough,” Ikkaku silenced.  
  


“But I-” Renji sobbed, but Ikkaku stopped him with a wave of the hand.  
  


“I won’t hear it.”

 

In the following hours, the two of them were silent. Ikkaku cluelessly packed up their supplies, and Renji dug a hole in the woods with a stick. At last when it was time, he found that he could not- could not look at him, let alone touch him.

Renji approached Prince Ikkaku and muttered timidly, “My prince, I…”

“Ikkaku,” he reminded without looking at him, tugging fruitlessly at the straps to a bag and stuffing things in.

“Yessir. I… Ikkaku, I can’t.” When the prince turned to him in confusion, Renji bowed his head and whispered, “Please. I’m so sorry, I can’t.”  
  


    “I’ll do it.”  
  


Renji went into the woods where the horses were tied and loaded the supply bags and waited for the prince to call him. When he did, Renji tried not to look in the hole where his old friend’s body was wrapped carefully in a tarp and laid inside. Together they filled the dirt in and left it unmarked.

 

                No grave for a traitor.

 

Renji dried his eyes for the last time and with a heavy heart, the two of them headed on alone together. He rode on Hisagi’s horse at Ikkaku’s side and they talked freely as friends. The prince’s newfound kindness to him soothed the guilt and grief in his heart.

On their seventh day riding through the countryside, the prince received word from a messenger that Zaraki was at war and that he was being summoned home by the Kempachi.

“What will we do, Ikkaku?” Renji wondered, looking over Ikkaku’s shoulder at the page, despite not being able to read.

Ikkaku folded up the letter and put it in his pocket. “I’m not going back. I haven’t found Yumichika yet.” Renji looked to his face anxiously. Didn’t the country need him if the Kempachi had personally asked him to come home?

“I won’t ask you to accompany me further, Renji,” Ikkaku said. He thanked him for his help and apologized for mistreating him. No one has ever, ever said sorry to Renji before. Renji has always felt loyalty to Prince Ikkaku, but at that moment, he felt as though he was being ordered to leave his brother.  
  


“I would never leave your side, my prince,” he replied.  
  


“I want you to go back and tell the Kempachi that I’m not through searching.”  
  


“But then you’ll be alone… Don’t send me away,” he murmured.  
  


“You’ve been a good friend to me,” Ikkaku thanked him. “I will continue on, no matter how long or far the journey takes me. I must send you home in my stead. Please, Renji, do me this one last favor.”

“I will, Ikkaku,” he obeyed, and bowed to him. When he stood, Ikkaku embraced him briefly, and Renji felt tears come to his eyes. “Goodbye,” he mumbled, and then they parted ways.

Renji went on alone for some time, riding through the forest and talking with his horse in his loneliness. He knew how to survive in the wilderness, so he was fine once the food ran out, but there was one problem: he can’t read – meaning, he couldn’t read signs or maps well enough to use them.

Apparently it wasn’t as simple as keeping the mountain on his left to make sure he was traveling northwards, and after a few days, he realized he wasn’t making his way back to the foothills lining the northern border, but instead was thoroughly lost in the East.


	12. Chapter 12

_Once upon a time there was a great spirit who loved to play with the mortals, and lived among them as a king in a beautiful palace._

_One day, he caught sight of a boy, brave and determined, stubborn and skilled in battle beyond the wildest dreams of mortal men, and he recognized in him the gifts given unto humans by his closest companion._

_Upon learning such a boy lived, the first in many centuries, the Azure Peacock sought him out, intending to play with him, and in his insatiable curiosity, took a mortal shape to better understand him._

_However, the two mortals fell in love, as was bound to happen, and the Azure Peacock returned night after night and took human shape to be with the very same mortal man that had been taken to the shrine of his ancient lover, the Red Dragon._

 

…

 

Despite his scare with the Oni – _shit, there was an Oni Island in the Hokutan, who knew?_   – Ichigo, whose life has been simple and boring, filled with back-breaking labor and hopelessness day in and day out, could not slake his thirst after having a taste of adventure, and went back a few times more, hunting around and chopping wood.

However, despite his new interest, his life was not carefree, and he could not shirk his duties any time he pleased, so deciding to go back and investigate that tower again if he could, during the daytime, took a bit of planning.

One day he woke up incredibly early after only a few hours sleep and went out to begin his work. The water was frigid around his legs and there wasn’t even a hint of sun yet, and on top of it, he was alone – no one to sing with, to listen to gossiping, to share food with – but he felt it was worth it.

To his satisfaction, he finished about halfway through the afternoon rather than the early evening. When he did, he went back and found his little boat and rowed out to the island. Feeling like quite the explorer, Ichigo wandered through the fog and gloom until he found the tower again, able to see it more clearly in the day.

“I’d thought it might have been a dream,” Ichigo muttered, hands on his hips and looking around. “Damn, who built this thing out here? And then just left it?” It looked ancient, at least two periods out of style. Maybe there'd used to be people living on this island but they'd left because of the Oni. If that were the case, you'd think there'd be at least a couple rundown houses still scattered about, but this tower was the only thing that gave any sign that a human had ever set foot here.

Ichigo cursed and shoved through the rose bushes around the foundation of the tower, looking for a door – shit, it had been easier to move through the brambles last time when he'd been in fear for his life – but he didn’t find anything, not a damn thing.

He spat and slapped at the branches as he barrelled out into the grass again, then glared at the tower wall. What the hell was it out here for if there was no way inside? There wasn’t a door or a window anywhere? If he looked up towards the peaked roof with a hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun through the heavy cloud cover, he thought he could see a window, but there was no ladder or anything, no way up there.

“Hmm,” he muttered, disappointed. He would’ve liked to go up there. Maybe some madman had walled himself up and left behind some treasure. Ichigo would’ve liked to find a way inside to look around.

Taking his axe out of his belt, Ichigo began to chop down dead trees and split logs, intending to stay until the sun set, when the Oni would come for him – not that he was concerned with them this time, now that he had a weapon with him.

After cutting down and splitting three or four trees, Ichigo straightened up and wiped his brow with his forearm, looking up towards the tower again wistfully.  
  


     He blinked in surprise to see a girl in the window, looking back at him.  
  


              “Hey!” he called, jumping in place, startled.  
  


She was so pale and weak-looking, thin as a bone, and in a blue kimono probably worth more than Ichigo’s life.

“Hey! he hollered, hands cupped around his mouth when she didn’t answer at first. “Do you live here?!” No reply, in fact, she began to withdraw. “Are you alright?!” he called, approaching the tower, stomping through the bushes and putting his hands out to the wall as if to look for a way to climb up to her, even though he’d already found no door.

“Miss, do you need help?” She hid away, and Ichigo frowned, watching the window for a long time, but she did not come back.

Since he was quite far from his home in the Minamikawase district of the Kuchiki lands, in his following visits back and forth to the island, Ichigo knocked on the doors of stranger's farms or asked field hands, he even went across the river a couple times to the Rukon and asked the few farmers still living on that side.

People _had_ actually heard about the tower and the girl, but they only knew a little about her. They had some vague sense that she’d been put there to protect her from the savage prince of the North, who was reportedly of marrying age – but that sounded more like a rumor to Ichigo. What concerned him was that no one knew her name or who she was.  
  


“So she’s alone out there, then,” Ichigo muttered with his brow furrowed, “and she can’t get out.”  
  


“Well, I suppose she is.”  
  


“That’s nuts! Why doesn’t anyone go out there and get her down! What if she runs out of food, doesn’t anyone care if she starves?! I’m gonna’ go take her out of there.”  
  


“Don’t go out onto the island, young man,” he was told by a cattle farmer as Ichigo leaned on his fence and listened to all he knew about the Lady of the Lake. “The Oni will devour you,” the man warned, but Ichigo scrunched his nose.  
  


     “I think I’ll be fine.”  
  


“Why should you be? You have a monkey totem to ward them off or something? Or are you just too stupid to know to be scared of an Oni.”

"I don't need a monkey," Ichigo grumbled, and insisted that he didn’t believe in those kinds of superstitions. “I’m not afraid of the Oni,” he said.  
  


When Ichigo managed to go back to the island again, he brought a rope and a knife, and a small bag of food and water on his back. Drawing close to the base of the tower cautiously, he called up to her, “Hey! Anyone there?!” He did not see her in the windowsill, and heard no reply. “I’m coming up, okay?!”

Strategically driving stakes into cracks between the aging stone bricks, Ichigo used them as footholds to drive more stakes further up that he could tie his rope to. He held tight to it, climbing his ladder as far as he could make it, and then clung onto any outcroppings of uneven rock, his heart pounding when his feet slipped, when his fingers ached too much to hold on.

At last, he made it to the windowsill of the tower and gripped the edge, clinging on for dear life until he could get an elbow over. “Can I come in?” he called, panting and holding onto the windowframe, climbing in with the last of his strength and tumbling onto the ground, taking a few moments to gasp and rest his limbs.

  
To his amazement, he was in a little room, furnished and cozy, and sure enough, the lady was there, drawn back against the opposite wall, cheeks white and eyes wide.  
  


Standing, Ichigo whispered, “Wow…” He looked around and tracked dirt through her room as he took a few steps. There did seem to be quite a few treasures in here after all, the decorations so beautiful and fine. The most notable piece of furniture was the loom pushed against the wall, and beneath it, in a large roll, a beautiful tapestry, glimmering with golden threads. “Wow,” he repeated, turning towards her. “Did you make this?”

Watching him in silence for some time, she at last said, “I… Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ichigo murmured, running a hand on the smooth surface. “So, uh... Do you get many visitors?” he wondered, looking around once more. It was quite a small room. He felt as though he were in a doll’s house almost. Well, if he thought on it, it seemed the right size for such a tiny woman. 

“No,” she said, her voice small. “None.”

“I guess, uh…” Ichigo scratched the back of his head. “Well, I thought you might be starving to death up here. Heh’.” She didn’t smile or laugh back, continuing to stare at him and stand there as if he was about to attack her at any second. It occurred to him then that she might be afraid, all alone out in the woods with a strange man in her house.

He tried to lighten up on the scowl his sisters always said made him look mean and scary. “Uhh, what’s your name?” he asked.  
  


“Princess Rukia.”  
  


“Oh.” Ichigo straightened up. “M’lady.” He knelt on one knee for a second, then stood again. He understood now. She was a Kuchiki. He shouldn’t be here.  
  


“Sorry for barging in… Maybe… I should go,” he muttered.  
  


“No!” she said, holding a hand out as he turned to the window, which stopped Ichigo in his tracks. “I mean,” she cleared her throat, composing herself, and then proclaimed imperiously, eyes shut, “unnecessary.”  
  


Ichigo paused, a hint of a smile tugging his lip. She wanted him to stay. “... Alright.”  
  


They sat down together on the rug, the princess kneeling primly like a lady of a royal house should, and Ichigo like an uncultured peasant, legs splayed obscenely. Ichigo opened his pack and ate the food he’d brought, and Lady Rukia ate some biscuits – although Ichigo didn’t know where she had gotten any food from, considering she was up here with no way out. Maybe someone from the Kuchiki Manor brought her rations.

After seeming to see that he meant her no harm, Lady Rukia’s silence melted and he could hardly get a word in edgewise with her questions and demands – despite all the front of etiquette rich people put forward, Ichigo’d always thought they had far worse manners than common people, mostly because he's never been treated halfway decent by a Kuchiki in his entire life. Sure enough, Lady Rukia was rude and blunt in almost everything she said to him. Instead of being upset as he usually was at being treated as dirt by one of the Kuchiki clan, Ichigo found it charming, funny even. It was as though she were trying to befriend him, but didn't know quite how to speak to another human being in any sort of natural way.  
  


“Why had you come through the island of the Oni, you fool?”  
  


“You’re not very ladylike at all, are you?!” he accused, laughing when she seemed aghast at this, ruffling up like a startled bird.  
  


Continuing, her nose turned up – and yes, Ichigo could definitely see the Kuchiki in her now – Rukia demanded, “Aren’t you worried you’d be spirited away, coming to an enchanted island?” Ichigo’s smile dropped.

“I don’t believe in magic,” he said flatly, scowling as he received the same look as he always did, as if he were insane. “Nothing’s happened to me anyway, has it now." 

She looked at him for a long time then with no reply, her expression softening into sadness. Ichigo’s frown faded as well in concern.  
  


“What is it?... Lady Rukia?”  
  


She smiled then, but did not answer. “What’s your name, foolish boy?”  
  


“Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said with his mouth full, “Don’t forget it.”  
  


“Ichigo. Stay a while and let’s play cards,” she invited eagerly. “I’ve been dreadfully bored.”  
  


“I can imagine.” Lying on his back on the floor, Ichigo placed a hand on his stomach and his other arm over his forehead. Feeling free to complain a little about her family’s vicious loansharking and exploitation of his fellow tenants, he muttered, “Day after day in the fields, I feel much the same…”  
  


“All work and no play-”  
  


“-sucks,” Ichigo finished sullenly.  
  


“I’m not sure that’s how it goes.”  
  


“In any case.”  
  


“Can you read?” Rukia wondered, taking out a small and very ornate box, blowing the dust off the top and wiping it with her tiny hands.

“Some,” Ichigo lied uneasily. He _could_ read some, but not very much. It’s not often he even _needs_ to read, with his life filled with manual labor and very little idle time.

“Enough to play Mahjong?” she asked, and as she opened the box before him and showed him the very expensive handmade bone tiles with the little pictures of bamboos and birds and flowers, her face held such eagerness that Ichigo felt he could not refuse.

 

        “Teach me, M’lady,” is what he said.

 

…

 

After seeing the last of Renji, Ikkaku traveled on alone, but not without regret. Ikkaku found he missed him as soon as he was gone, especially so after they'd mended their friendship. He also came to realize that traveling by oneself was very lonely.

As he rode along the golden path through the hills, he puzzled over the riddle Renji had left him with, Yumichika’s instructions to find him again.

 _‘Wind the under peg on the upper and you will find me.’_ Under on the upper, what did that mean? Words to a spell? Pegs to what? A hopeless and impossible riddle and a promise to see Yumichika nevermore. It had been a sarcastic joke and nothing else.  
  


This was futile. Ikkaku had never been able to solve riddles without Yumichika’s help anyways.  
  


Still, Ikkaku couldn't give up his search even if it was altogether hopeless. He couldn’t give up his dream of the two of them living together in happiness. When he’d told Yumichika the feelings of his heart, oh how Yumichika had smiled, how Ikkaku had seen in Yumichika’s eyes that he felt the same way. And so he wandered on through the East, tireless.

It was no great hardship, really. If he weren’t in such a fret from having lost Yumichika, he’d say he was quite enjoying himself. He didn’t agree with his father at all about this place; Ikkaku loved it out here. Easterners were endlessly generous and quite charming. Their accents were lovely to listen to, and without fail, if he rode by after dark, people would call out to him to come join them for dinner and rest for the night, not even knowing who he was. Ikkaku was fascinated by their kindness.

When Ikkaku had travelled for a long time, he came upon an old man, tending a field of sheep. Ikkaku walked up to the side of the fence and called, “Ojii-san! Have you heard of nine golden peahens?”

The shepherd hobbled on over to him and Ikkaku bent a bit to hear him. He answered in an old trembling voice, “Yes, my son, you are fortunate in having come to ask me about them. They are not far hence.” Ikkaku lit up. What luck!   “It is not more than a half day’s journey to them from here.”

“What do I have to do?” he wondered, listening attentively.

“Follow the road to the right and you will come upon a large gate. When you enter that gate, turn to the right, and then you will go into their town, and in that town is their palace,” the old man advised. “You will find the peahens there.”

“Thank you!” Ikkaku said with a grin, getting atop his horse and riding off, waving back to the farmer.

     “Fair travels, my boy.”  
  


Ikkaku began his search with renewed vigor, riding on for a few hours searching for a fork in the road. The old man had described a palace. Yumichika must be fae royalty! They might wed and unite their empires! He may not be a disappointment to his parents and a shame to his country after all! Oh what luck he had to have Yumichika _and_ his place in line to be Emperor of Zaraki!

Ikkaku went on his way according to the old man’s directions, despite being so filled with excitement that he kept glancing about anxiously when he saw no fork in the road for many miles. At last, he did, and turned his horse to the right. He went on until he came to a massive sanmon, at which he slowed his horse and pulled to the side, walking underneath the gate on the far right, not through the center.

“Turn to the right, and then you will go into the town,” Ikkaku repeated to himself. He led his horse on down the cobblestone street into a town on a hill. Once he saw the town, he was practically vibrating with excitement. He was almost there, he was almost to Yumichika!

As he entered the town, he asked how to go inside the palace of the nine peahens, and the way to the entrance was pointed out to him. At the front gates, he was stopped by a watchman, who asked after his business in the palace. Ikkaku told him who he was and why he'd come, and after this, the watchman went off to announce Ikkaku to the Emperor, Azure Peacock.  
  


        “Your grace, a visitor,” a messenger reported.  
  


Ruri’iro Kujaku sprawled on his throne, loose hair and haori draped around him as he played with a large silver ball. He smiled a bit when he caught sight of a familiar face in its gleam.

“Well, he came after all, did he,” he purred. He peered into the ball, bringing it closer to admire the lovely boy who waited just outside the palace gates.

“My, you surprise me,” he whispered to the pearl.


	13. Chapter 13

_Once, long ago in the Rukon, there was a story of a boy who came out of a peach. He came to two good people who desperately wanted a child, and he became their son._

_As he grew, he befriended a monkey, a talking dog, and a pheasant, and left his parents with his animal friends to become a hero. He survived the wastes, he braved the Southern Sea, and came to the island of the Oni, where he slayed every last one of those evil monsters._

_He brought back all the treasure, and with that treasure, he went up to the Eastern gate and he spent it all to buy the freedom of every last man, woman, and child captured and enslaved – and then he and all the orphan children, all the broken down and starving, they all crossed the river and escaped that wretched place._

_And in the sunlight and peace of the East, they lived happily to the end of their days._

 

…

 

Renji traveled for weeks, avoiding the populated areas as much as he could and instead lived like a wild animal, foraging and hunting. He left Hisagi’s horse in a stranger’s field, as she had become too troublesome to stop and feed, despite how far she carried him each day.

The next weeks are a blur. In the dense forests, he came across a band of woodsmen – bandits, to be more precise – and wanders with them for a time. He feels accepted there, as there were other Rukonjin in the gang, childhood escapees like him, and also like him, he even met one or two men who seemed to have been brought to the Juureichi at some point or another.

It was nice for a while, being able to speak freely instead of begging and scraping and always watching his manners. It was nice not being inferior to everyone around him, it was nice to have… _friends_ again, and for some time, Bazz-B and Grimmjow were Renji’s companions.

Little did he know that he’d gone so far south that he’d met one of the roving gangs of bandits that had managed to cross the border and now scourged the countryside. He caught on when they started doing things like killing cows and burning crops, which was when he decided to make a break for it.

They chased him down, and Renji ran for his life, narrowly escaping by running up to the edge of what he knew was the border dam. Halting in a moment’s hesitation, his heart wrenching and crying _‘no,’_ because he knew exactly where he was going, what was on the other side. The shouts behind him were growing closer though, and if he did not jump and escape now, they would cut his throat if they caught him.

So Renji held his breath and jumped, leaping over a long slope and skidding down a sheer rockface. The terrifying fall ended when he at last plunged deep into the water. He hung there suspended for a few minutes, breath knocked out of his lungs, then kicked and thrashed frantically.

Luckily, despite growing up in a desert, during his time in Zaraki, he’d learned how to swim, and when he broke the surface, he struck out frantically for the far edge, arrows striking the water around him. “Shit!” he gasped, spitting and choking as he at last made it to the other side and dragged himself out on the bank.

   When he looked up, he was home.

The endless parched desert stretched out before him, and behind him, a locked gate and a long turreted wall, smoothed and sloping to prevent anyone from climbing back up – the wall that separated the rolling green hills and even the _breeze_ of the East from the South as though by magic.

Panting, he looked up and around at the few people at the riverside there to witness his narrow escape. Wan sunken faces looked back at him as he rose and wrung his sopping hair out, already beginning to suffer under the beating glow of the sun.

He was back here in the baking heat, where the ground cracked with thirst and the trees all lay dead, where the people looked like skeletons. The crushing desolate poverty of it all: Inuzuri. Renji didn’t spare a moment feeling sorry for himself, trudging off from the river side. He had to get his message to the king.

He had to escape this unhappy place. How had he ended up back here again? He’d never wanted to come back as long as he lived.

He was grown now though. He’d survive to see the North with its wild fields of yarrow again, he’d see the flag proudly flying the ‘eleven’ again.

   He’s always been told that the wild men of the South have unbreakable spirit.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku waited for what felt like ages in a lavish hall to meet the Emperor. This place was admittedly even grander than his own home in Zaraki, damn, look at how high the ceiling went! It sure didn’t look that large from the outside! Everything down to the last detail was gilded and ornamental and dazzling.

At last he suddenly heard clattering footsteps, and Yumichika burst through the tall doors at the top of the polished steps. Ikkaku lit up with a delighted smile. Yumichika ran breathlessly to him and stood before him, glowing with happiness. Taking him by the hand, Yumichika led him inside.

Then the two of them rejoiced together; Ikkaku lifted him by the waist and spun him about, and Yumichika flung his arms around his shoulders, embracing him. They held each other for a long time in their happiness. “I’ve found you,” Ikkaku murmured. “I’ve finally found you.”

“You have,” Yumichika agreed with a laugh.

"I... I don't want to let you go again," Ikkaku confessed, unwilling to break their embrace. He'd truly thought he might never see Yumichika's face again. "I've missed you. Losing you was agony."

"Then stay," Yumichika murmured with a smile, and Ikkaku mirrors it, heart fluttering in joy.

"Do you..." Ikkaku cleared his throat. "Do you remember what I said to you before we parted? Because that's the truth. There's nothing in all the world I love so much as I love you, Yumichika. Tell me you feel the same..." he breathed. 

Yumichika gave him a long look, before a coy smile quirked his lip. "Ikkaku," he began.

  
    "... What?"

  
"How do I look?" he wondered, fluffing his short hair. Ikkaku snorted, laughing wildly and spinning him around and around.  
 

   In a day or two, they were married.

Ikkaku would’ve liked to ask after Yumichika’s hand and court him for a proper amount of time or ask his own father’s permission, but he didn't want to wait any longer, not just after he'd thought he may have lost Yumichika forever! His fae-lover, fickle and merry, saw nothing wrong in the urgency of his whims, finding it romantic.

The two overjoyed to be together at last, and everyone in the kingdom celebrated. Ikkaku truly felt welcome, to see Yumichika’s people so happy that they were wed. After many hours of celebration in the hall, stuffed to the brim with good food and wine and laughter, the two of them left the banquet to consummate their marriage, and everyone drank them a toast, continuing their merrymaking after they departed.

Ikkaku took Yumichika to bed, carrying him in his arms. There were candles lit all down the hallways to lead them to the bedchamber, and as Ikkaku carried him there, they paused at each candle and blew them out together one by one as they made their way to their bedroom.

When they came to the door, Ikkaku slowly set Yumichika down, and their eyes met. His lips parted, his throat dry as Yumichika gave a slow smile and went into his room, leaving Ikkaku in the hall for a moment before he fumbled to enter the adjoining one next door.

As he shut the door behind him, he spared not a glance for the bed or furniture, instead hurriedly unbuckling his belt and rifling through the drawers for bedclothes. He kicked his boots off, laid his sword down and checked his face in the mirror. His cheeks were hot and gleaming with sweat after the feast – Easterners knew how to throw a damn party.

Clothes were lain out for him on the bed, a bowl of water and a sponge on the bureau. He stripped naked and gave himself a quick scrub, and at last, with a yukata on for the night, he stood in front of the door connecting their rooms and raised his hand to knock. Hesitating, he placed his hand on the wood and rested his head there. He doesn’t hear anything on the other side.

Swallowing, he knocked on the door and slowly opened it, peeking inside across the large room towards the curtained bed. He knew Yumichika was in there waiting, could see him through the ghostly pale sheets.

Ikkaku emerged cautiously and shut the door behind him. He approached the bed and slowly parted the thin curtain enough to get inside, and it's then that he felt a little nervous. The two of them have not so much as kissed, after all.

For a moment, they just look at each other, and Ikkaku reached out to touch him, brushed a hand along his pale cheek.  _'A fae bride,'_ he thought numbly,  _'Can this be real?'_

A slow breath escaped him as they lay down together, Yumichika arms coming around his shoulders, his own going around Yumichika’s waist, and their lips met at last, warm and sealed together.

Yumichika was bare and glowing in the pale light of a few candles outside the canopy, so lovely that Ikkaku could hardly stand to look at him. _‘Gentle,’_ he told himself, resting his hands softly on Yumichika’s back, holding onto him, _‘I must be gentle.’_

“Why do you tremble?” Yumichika whispered, rolling atop him, a sweet weight in his lap and his soft dark hair tickling along Ikkaku’s jaw. Excitement shot through him, breaking through the haze in a warm flush of passion. Ikkaku controlled his breathing, his lips parted and just barely brushing Yumichika’s. “Put your arms around me.” Ikkaku did.

He doesn't know how long his wedding night lasts - it felt like a dream, a wonderful, wonderful dream void of detail. He could tell you they kissed; they made love; they lay in each other’s arms.

“Yumichika, tell me true,” he breathed, flesh tingling and damp with sweat, his face pressed to Yumichika’s neck, “Do you love me?”

“I do.” Yumichika’s body molded to his own so well, slotted beneath him.

“Do you truly?”

“Truly I love you.”

“None so well as I?” Ikkaku wondered, lifting onto his elbows above him.

“With all my soul, I love you,” Yumichika murmured against his lips, cool fingers soothing the feverish back of his head and neck. “And you?” Yumichika smiled.

“I love you more than all the gold, all the battles, all the-” Ikkaku tried to say, not finding the words. “You’re… you’re wonderful,” he sighed. He gently picked himself off his husband – _his faerie husband_ – and laid beside him, their arms lovingly around each other beneath the blankets. He felt very much a man, very much completed.

In the morning, Ikkaku woke to the sounds of servants lighting the fire and laying out some food for them, but the bed curtains were closed, and he felt at ease to lie here bare with his lover nestled in his arms.

He let his hand run over Yumichika’s glossy black hair and kissed his forehead. He’d never known he could love something so much.

He knows this is exactly what his dad meant when he talked about needing that something extra to be a man, to be truly ready to become king. How could he ever have understood how to rule and see true worth in the lives of his subjects without understanding this, without knowing that everybody had someone they loved like this, that they wanted to protect at all costs, and be with for the rest of their lives.  And for him, that is Yumichika.

 

 

. . .

Ichigo and Lady Rukia became fast friends. He came to visit her at least once a week, sometimes more, often exhausted due to hurrying through his work to be able to come to her sooner.

His happiness at making a newfound friend was short-lived however, because as he visited her several times, each time she grew sicker and more frail.

At last he asked, when she could not stand to greet him when he made it through her window, “Princess Rukia, are you sick? You don’t look well at all.”

  
    “I feel perfectly fine,” she rasped, and although Ichigo didn’t press her, he didn’t believe the obvious lie.

At last, once when he visited her, she didn’t answer when he called up to her window, and when he made it up to her, she was lying in bed, hardly able to lift an arm. Her voice was fragile and weak, rattling with sickness. That was when she whispered to him that she’d been cursed.

“Rukia, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” he asked desperately, kneeling at her bedside. She looked an inch from death. He felt her forehead gently, put her little cold hand to his cheek.

She licked her cracked parched lips. “I looked out the window,” she said in a quiet wisp of a voice. “I saw you in the field, and… the sun,” she rasped, her voice breaking with emotion. “... I couldn’t resist.” Ichigo’s face screwed up in wretchedness.

“What will happen to you?”

“I’ll die.” Ichigo shook his head, uncomprehending, unable to accept her words. “ _‘No time hath she to sport or play,’_ ” she whispered, singing a little, eyes slipping closed in exhaustion, her hand falling limp in Ichigo’s grasp. “ _‘A charmed web she weaves away. A curse is on her, if she stay her weaving, either night or day.’_ ”

Ichigo looked at the unfinished roll of tapestry, a red-headed boy and a small black-haired girl joining the newest image. The latest bits were a half-woven picture of the two of them together, her and Ichigo, in the tower, lit up with sunlight.

He turned to her with a dry mouth, insisting with his heart pounding in panic and sadness, “Curses aren’t real, magic isn’t real.”

Rukia was silent, fading under his touch, her chest hardly rising and falling even as he watched. He swallowed hard and took her fragile little shoulders in his hands, not daring to shake her, but trying to wake her up again. “Who, who’s cursed you?” he asked desperately. “Why are you sick?”

“Nii-sama,” she murmured, opening her eyes a sliver.

Ichigo felt a bitter bubbling of rage build just beneath the surface of his overwhelming sorrow. “Lord Kuchiki did this?” he demanded.

“If I were to leave, he might lose me like he lost Lady Hisana,” she explained, not making any sense.

   “That’s fucked up!” he barked through gritted teeth.

  
When at last he felt he could leave her side, Ichigo traveled all the way back, walked till his feet ached and he felt about to drop dead in exhaustion and hunger – he dragged himself up to the Kuchiki manor around midday the following day, and as luck would have it, it was one of the few days the mysterious Lord Kuchiki showed his face outside his mansion to visit the gardens.

“Hey!” he confronted him directly, shouting like a mad man that he had to go over there and help Rukia, bring her medicine or something. He didn’t get a word in response, barely a cold silent glance before the lord turned away to seclude himself again.

“She’s going to fucking _die_ \- your sister!” Ichigo screamed. “Don’t you _care, goddamn you!”_ Thrown out into the mud by Lord Kuchiki’s attendants, Ichigo raged and thrashed as he was shoved down, a knee on his back, his arms bound.

Having had enough of his troublemaking, and what Ichigo suspected was worse, embarrassing the family by having discovered their imprisoned princess, he was to be placed in exile in the wastes of the South. Beaten to shreds, Ichigo spent his last night in the Hokutan tied to a stake in the center of his village.

Yuzu openly wept at the sight of him, trying to feed him sips of water, but Karin stood in silence as they saw each other for the last time. At dawn, he was brought before the royal family and sentenced to a life of exile.

Refusing to be intimidated through violence or shaming, Ichigo still wouldn’t be silenced. “You might be fucking heartless, but I won’t let her die!” he shouted at the silent Lord Kuchiki and his stupid icy face. “I swear on my soul!”

He was roped up like an animal and led on foot for days, down to the Southern border. When the guards grew careless, Ichigo broke free and escaped, running as fast as he could on shaky legs, vision blackening from hunger, until he broke through the thicket into the woods.

They didn’t pursue him further after he entered the trees of the forest, at which time he slowed and doubled over to catch his breath and rest. Apparently, the guards were wary of following him into the Junrinan, the magical forest, which Ichigo supposed was to his advantage.

      He turned and walked further into the woods, seeing no reason to worry. There was no such thing as magic, after all.


	14. Chapter 14

_Once, in the Juureichi, lived an ancient and powerful spirit, one of the oldest, the Red Dragon, along with his companion and partner, Azure Peacock. Long ago, the dragon’s heart had broken in grief, and no more did he shine favor down on the children of the earth, passing his time in the mountain sleeping and counting his treasure._

_His friend continued to play amongst mortal men, which was of little concern to the dragon. This is, until he took interest in a special boy, the human prince of the North, gifted with bravery and strength and the breath of dragon’s fire in his soul._

_And the Red Dragon was displeased by this, for if there was one thing about dragons, they didn’t like to share._

 

. . .

 

There he was again, swimming in the blackness, more cold and empty than ever. He cried out in despair and betrayal, “You promised me! You told me the suffering would end!”

Crawling on his knees and clutching his chest, Renji wrenched out, “Why did you lie to me? Why did you abandon me?”

  
    “I am always with you.”  


“You’re not,” he spat, and the tears ran and ran. “I’m alone.”

“I am always there,” he heard, and felt a consoling hand soothing his heart. “You must get up. You must survive.”

The comforting touch already was slipping away, and Renji tried to hold on. “Don’t leave,” he begged. “Don’t leave me alone again.”  


    “You must get up. Get up or you will die here.”  


          “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “I can’t go on alone.”  


Renji opened his eyes, his body aching and weak, and after a few confused moments staring out at the parched ground, the shimmering waves of heat rising from the earth, he pushed himself up and searched for shade, his shirt wrapped around his head to keep cool.

He’s gone the wrong way, and last night he’d collapsed in exhaustion. He should have dug himself a hole and buried himself to avoid overheating during the day, but he’d always felt suffocated doing so, like a corpse in a grave. He would have to soon, if the heat kept up, and he knew it would. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun beat down, merciless in the face of his suffering.

Dusty barren towns lined the upper areas of Inuzuri, but the lower districts of the Rukon were split by the wastes, an uninhabitable desert dividing the towns from the distant sealine. In his effort to avoid people as much as possible, he’d wandered too far from the ramshackle huts and dry fields of dead crops and found himself in the wastes by mistake. He knew that somewhere on the west coasts there were some fishing villages, but the uppermost portion that bordered the Junrinan was divided between Kusajishi and Inuzuri.

Inuzuri was a dangerous place to be, starved by dying crops and battered by gang warfare. There wasn’t a place there that was safe to sleep without worrying you were going to be robbed, killed, or kidnapped into slavery. Kusajishi, where he needed to be, was sparsely wooded, run by bands of woodsmen who managed to survive without being eaten by the wild dogs that lived in the forest there.

As a child, Renji had never dared to venture out that far, despite knowing that passage into the East was impossible but breaking into the Fugai might be possible in theory – not likely, with those wolves running about ready to snatch up little boys and tear them to bits for food.

He would have to try and make it there, and then make it through, and then traverse the swamps of the Fugai. The endless fields of the Hokutan seemed like a piece of cake by comparison, if he could get himself that far. It seemed a daunting task, especially now.

It was hard to keep his spirits up. Being met with the misery of his youth took him right back to those horrible days. Back to sleeping with his back to a wall or a rock. Back to sleeping lightly so he could escape if someone walked up towards him to steal from him or cut his throat. Back to the near constant screams in the distance, back to digging a hole to sleep in to escape the sun and the heat, back to hunger so intense that he would eat things that weren’t meant to be eaten, that might make him sick and weak for days on end when his body purged.

He wandered and wandered alone for what felt like months. In the night, he walked, and when he was too exhausted to walk, he would rest under the stars and touch himself and think of the boy from the rice fields. In the day, he thought of the red seed, the reason that he must live, he thought of the love he had for his brother and his mission to get back home. 

He’d occasionally see packs of children, little skinny dirty things that ran as one at the sight of him or any other adult. When dried grass was able to take root in little patches, and not all the trunks of the trees were completely dead and parched white, Renji knew he was going in the right direction.

Sleep in that woods was restless and uncomfortable, as he’d have to climb a tree and sleep up there so that the dogs that howled endlessly after dark wouldn’t get him. By day, travel was much easier in the shade of the woods, as was foraging.

   
     He made it at last through to the Fugai. At least he’d thought so.  


After a long time wandering through a dense full canopy of dark green leaves and thick-trunked trees that didn’t let in much sun but mysteriously somehow still allowed for a thick carpet of grass, Renji began to see crumbled rocks, large stones shaped into bricks that had seemed to have once been parts to a wall, maybe a temple. Now they lay strewn about and cracked, dirtied by years spent on the ground. There were carved figures as well, encrusted beyond recognition with moss and lichen, half-buried in the soft dirt.

Tired down to his bones, Renji lay down on the ground and fell asleep at the feet of a large stone statue. He had a strange dream about a snow-white animal climbing out of the statue and taking his face in its – hands?

“Where are we?” he asked dazedly, staring uncomprehendingly into a pink face. Instead of looking around in the darkness as usual, he was on a white plane that stretched endlessly in all directions. He was lying on his back, and feels brand new, clean and naked, secure underneath the thick limbs posted above him, the stocky furry body of his protector.

“Wake up,” he thought he heard, feeling something cold slither across his chest. “Wake up and follow your heart.”  


      “... My heart?”  


     It was only when he awakened and rubbed his head, looking up at the statue in suspicion to find it unchanged, that he realized he was not in the Fugai at all.  


Attached to his hand was a glimmering red thread, coming out of the very tip of his finger as though he were a doll unraveling. He looked off into the distance and found the thread extending on through the trees, sparkling brightly despite the thick foliage that only allowed for dappled sunlight.

  
    No, he was not in the Fugai at all. Instead, he must have wandered into the Junrinan, the enchanted forest.  


“Magic,” he whispered in amazement as he stood up. He looked up at the statue once more and then gave a quick bow, placing his palms together in respect.

Renji raised his hand in wonder, looking at the strand of thread, thin as spider silk, but rich and bright red. He brought his other hand through it but did not become tangled, his flesh passing through it as though through water.

They were close, the one he's been waiting for. He could go to them directly. The loneliness was over, finally, it was over. So excited that he trembled, Renji licked his lips and tentatively began walking through the trees, following the path that the thread showed him.

No matter how his head spun with dizziness and hunger and fatigue, Renji kept on his feet, leaning against tree trunks and holding onto branches as he trudged on. He followed the string for many hours, across sparkling brooks, through glowing meadows, down gorges filled with lovely rocks of red clay, through fields of tree roots and boulders come down from the mountainside – at last, he cautiously moved out of the trees and into a sunny clearing.  


    When he came to the end of the thread there, who should he see asleep in the flowers, but the golden-haired boy.

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku fascinated himself with Yumichika for the next few days, absolutely enchanted with love for him. They spent almost every moment together in a warm embrace of some sort, whether it be only in hands, in arms, or in their marriage bed.

When a few days had passed after their wedding and the celebrations had at last died down, Yumichika told him as they walked through the gardens together that he must depart to go on a journey for matters of state. Ikkaku was saddened by this, and in turn told Yumichika about the war going on at home.

“My father called me back some time ago, but since I was still looking for you, I didn’t go back. Now that I’ve found you, my journey is over,” Ikkaku said, holding Yumichika’s hand in his as they walked through the trees and flower bushes. “I must return home sooner or later, but I hope you will come with me when I do, so I can show you to my family as my husband.”

Yumichika glowed with a smile and led him to a bench swing hanging from the branches of a tree, blooming white all over with fragrant flowers. “That sounds lovely.”

Ikkaku put his arm around Yumichika’s shoulders and held him to his side, lounging with him in the shade and looking off at the sparkling jeweled fountains in the distance of the vast gardens. “Must you go?” he muttered with a pout.

“I must.”

“Don’t you think of my heart breaking in loneliness?” he complained, and perhaps he was more like his father than he’d like to admit, playing the guilt card on the ones he loved at first opportunity.

“Ikkaku please,” Yumichika said with an exasperated eyeroll. “Enough melodramatics.” Ikkaku stuck his lip out and miserably dumped his forehead onto Yumichika’s shoulder, smiling into Yumichika’s chest when he began to laugh.

It was decided that Ikkaku would remain in the palace alone to oversee things in Yumichika’s stead. Ikkaku didn’t know how things were going to go, but as he was prince consort to the emperor of the Azure Kingdom now, by marriage, everyone has been really nice to him as far as he can tell. He thinks it’ll go smoothly enough, if not with some degree of loneliness and boredom.

When it came time for Yumichika to go away on his journey, he gave Ikkaku twelve cellar keys on a ring and told him, “When I go away, open all the cellars in the dungeon, but do not have any nonsense with the twelfth.”

“Why not?” Ikkaku wondered.

“Do as I say, love,” Yumichika dismissed, which Ikkaku frowned in curiosity.

“Which one’s the twelfth?”

“The one that lay at the end of the dungeon hall.” Ikkaku nodded.  


    “If that’s what you wish, that’s what I’ll do.”  


             “Wonderful. Kiss me goodbye.”  


Ikkaku did, and waved as Yumichika rode away with his attendants. When he remained alone in the palace, he thought, _‘What does this mean, that I’m to open all the cellars, but not the twelfth? That’s so strange that he should ask me to do such a silly thing… I wonder what’s inside the twelfth cellar.’_

He thought he might delegate the job to a servant, but then changed his mind, as Yumichika had specifically asked him to do this. He wasn’t particularly interested or tempted by the unknown of the dungeons, but in his boredom, Ikkaku eventually wandered down there.

It was just like Yumichika to have a kingdom in which even the cellars were clean, the stone walls scrubbed almost to a silvery glow. As Yumichika had described to him, there was a hallway with twelve wooden doors, each with a metal grate for seeing inside. Each room had a candle behind the door, and lit up the room, revealing each one empty. The twelfth, however, had no candle, and was black as night, no matter how Ikkaku squinted to try and see inside.

    Glory to the Juureichi, what can there be inside there?  


Grimacing in frustration, Ikkaku leaned back from the door, resigned that he would not know what was inside until Yumichika came back, or perhaps never, if Yumichika didn’t see fit to tell him.

He then began to open each door one after the other, each one pristine and empty, and he blew out each of the candles. By the eleventh door, he’d gotten into a rhythm, and had quite lost count of the doors, and without thinking, placed his hand on the handle of the twelfth door, startled to find the little window black and cold.

He put his hands on his hips and scowled. “Yumichika said no,” he repeated to himself, and that was that. He went out of the dungeon and back up into the light and resolved to occupy himself in other ways.

He read books, exercised in the yards, ate exotic fruits, swam in the pools in the garden, and then lazed around as he never had in all his years. After he’d become thoroughly bored and Yumichika was still not back, Ikkaku thought on those cellars again, and, telling himself he was only going back down to take a look, went back into the dungeon.

He marched right up to the twelfth wooden door and glared at it suspiciously. At first he would not open it, but since he had nothing else to do, he began to brood over the following days and wonder how it might be in the cellar Yumichika had told him not to open. What might be inside? A wild beast? A magical treasure?

He started to think it might not be much harm to unlock the door and open it for just a moment or two, then close it again – just long enough that he could look inside. Of course, the very thought made him queasy with guilt at being dishonest as a husband only a few weeks into his marriage, but at last he could stand it no longer.

“Just a quick peek,” he muttered, palms clammy as he put the key in the lock and opened the door slowly, peeking in. It was so dark inside that he had to open the door all the way to see anything at all.

To his confusion and disappointment, nothing of real interest was inside, only a cask of water standing in the corner. The only difference between this room and the others was that the floor was made of wooden planks and not packed stone, and in the center of the room, there was a hole sawed into the floor.

Ikkaku stepped inside and squatted next to the hole, placing his hands on the ground to lean down and peer through, but of course, saw nothing but darkness. Straightening up again, he scratched the back of his head with a frown and felt rather foolish. He’d gone out of his mind with wondering for such a plain and simple thing as a hole in the ground? Maybe Yumichika had just been testing him – and damnit, that meant he’d failed.

As Ikkaku made to leave, intending to lock the room back up and think of how he would apologize to Yumichika for disobeying him. He felt so guilty about it that it didn’t even cross his mind to try to lie, and planned to tell him what he’d done immediately – _‘I’m sorry, Yumichika. I did exactly what you told me not to do when you left. I won’t do it again. Please will you forgive me?’_

When he stepped outside, he suddenly heard a voice behind him. “Water.” Ikkaku turned around, looking back, but there was no one there. It had come from the pit in the ground. Was someone down there?  


   “I pray you, stranger, I am athirst.” The voice was toneless, pitchless, genderless, volumeless. They were just words.  


“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Ikkaku tried to explain. “I’m already in trouble, just being in here. My husband told me not to.”  


     “Just one cup of water.”  


_‘Magic,’_ he realized, after hearing the voice once more, and thought that there wasn’t much harm in giving a prisoner a drink, if that’s who this… _being_ was. He decided to obey, and walked into the room towards the cask, took the cup standing atop the lid, and scooped out some water.

He crouched on the ground and poured the water down the hole. As soon as he had done so, there was a great rumbling _snap_ and the floorboards rattled, but there came no splash.  


   Again the voice cried, “I am yet athirst, give me another.”  


Ikkaku poured one more cup down, thinking perhaps they hadn’t been able to get more than but a mouthful, what with him pouring it through the floor into what seemed like a deep hole. But then again, he hadn’t heard it splatter on the ground or anything.

Again, there was a great rumbling beneath his feet. “Yet one more,” the voice called. As soon as Ikkaku had finished pouring the third cupful, there was a sound as though the very earth was breaking apart. Ikkaku stood and backed away, just soon enough to avoid the floor splintering beneath his feet.

Out burst the very dragon that had once guarded his father’s apple tree, knocking him flat on his back and thundering out past him, out, down the hall, banging up the stairs, its great body hitting against the walls as it rumbled up the stairs and outside.

Ikkaku sat up, wincing and feeling as though he was in very deep trouble, but he didn’t know exactly how deep yet. He wished he’d just listened to Yumichika.

He ran upstairs and soon found broken pieces of furniture everywhere, showing him a pretty clear picture of where the dragon had gone. A few distraught servants told him, aghast, that it had barrelled outside and taken off, flown away.

Ikkaku cursed, and felt quite anxious for the next few hours. How was he going to face his husband now? Damnit, why has he been so foolish.  


    It wasn’t until the following day when Yumichika’s terrified attendants returned empty-handed and without Yumichika that Ikkaku realized just how deeply he’d screwed up. They came into the throne room where Ikkaku sat fidgeting, and told him tearfully that a dragon had come down from the sky and carried the emperor away!  


     “And you came back alive?!” Ikkaku shouted, “You did nothing?!”

   
                “Forgiveness! Forgiveness!”

 

   Ikkaku cuffed them around the ears in frustration and after a short time, set off to seek Yumichika out. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset with him when he came to rescue him.


	15. Chapter 15

_Once long ago, those of the Juureichi loved the people of the earth so much that they decided to create a perfect match. They took a simple weaver and a boy with eyes that shone like stars, and arranged the two of them to meet by chance._

_The two young people so much loved each other that the heavens smiled. However, having been brought together unnaturally, their lives did not cross paths for very long. Their families would not let them be together, and, taken away from each other, they both faded away from heartbreak._

_So touched by their care for each other, all the spirits of the mountain vowed that never again would they let two such hearts become lost from one another, and together they all weaved a magical red cord that no matter how tangled and knotted it became, no matter how old it grew or how far it was stretched, would never snap or break._

_With the Red Thread of Fate attached at birth, two such hearts could find each other from opposite ends of the world._

 

_. . ._

  


That night, Ichigo had a nightmare, the likes of which he hadn’t had since he was a young boy. He dreamed about those unhappy days of his childhood, about the magic bead; the pearl he’d dug up in the yard. He dreamed of a hauntingly pale face, of the cold embrace of the river, the rain, gold spilling through his palms – and he dreamed about his mother.

When he woke, he did not open his eyes at first. He simply lay still and came back to himself, calmed his aching heart. He’d fallen asleep in the woods last night, on a bed of flowers and soft grass, his belly sore and full with little fish eaten whole and bits of harmless looking leaves.

He wrinkled his nose suddenly at a warm puff of air on his face. When at last he cracked open his eyes, he found that there was a man leaning over him, _incredibly_ _close_ , and as he watched, uncomprehending for a moment, the man swallowed and licked his lips nervously.

  
  A second later, the last of sleep had long since fled and Ichigo’s eyes popped open wide, and he screamed, “Ahhh!”

  
       “Wahhh!” the man screamed back, hurling himself away.

  
Ichigo scrambled back, nearly falling over himself in his hurry to get away from this stranger. He held his fists up and shouted, “Get back, I'll hit you, I mean it! I swear I will!” Brandishing his fists with a scowl, his heart racing in surprise, he yelled, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Woah, no, I just- I just saw you laying there!” protested the guy helplessly, his expression aghast. He held his hands up apologetically, not moving any closer towards Ichigo, who was still tense and ready to fight. “I thought- I was checking to make sure you’re okay!”

The man was blushing really hard, cheeks hot and pink and eyes wide, a hand pressed over his mouth. Ichigo glared suspiciously, taking in his cherry-red ponytail and his dark tattoos, his filthy clothes. He talked like a Southerner too, what with the thick accent and all, meaning he was probably one of those cutthroat bandits, escaped into the woods, waiting for some unsuspecting rube to pass by.

“Hmm,” he grumbled distrustfully, but at last put his fists down and promptly walked off, wanting nothing to do with him.

During his time in the Junrinan, Ichigo had figured he would meet a couple weirdos, but he hadn’t seen a single person until now. All the more reason to start walking in the other direction _right away._

The guy stared after him for a few surprised moments before calling after him, “Wait!” and following after. “Where are you going? You shouldn’t be alone here!” he tried, walking up at his side. Ichigo didn’t make any room for him on the path, barreling on with a scowl. He had to get back and save Rukia as soon as he could.

“Mind your own business!”

“Well-” he sputtered, trying to keep up with him. “What if you run into a fae?” he blurted.

“Pff,” Ichigo spat, rolling his eyes and stopping at last when the guy got in front of him, holding his arms out to try and stop him. “What, like you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I’m not. But- Just- I’m lost like you are, so…” He scratched his hair and looked at him hopefully with these deep brown eyes. Ichigo scowled.

“Speak for yourself - Who says I'm lost,” he said scornfully, shaking his head and walking around him.

“What? Wait, you’re not lost? You know where you’re going?” the guy said in confusion, still trailing behind him annoyingly.

“The Hokutan,” Ichigo told him. “Whichever direction that is.”

Red-hair caught up to him and pleaded, “Hey, let me come too, I need to get back to Zaraki!”

 _Back_ to Zaraki? Ichigo frowned slowly and gave him a long side-eye that made the guy color and look away. “But… your accent…” Ichigo also gave a pointed look to his hair. He for sure wasn’t Zarakijin with that head of hair. The whole lot of the Northerners had dark coloring.

“I know,” the guy mumbled, eyes cast down. “It’s just where I work. I got… lost… on my way back.” Ichigo felt kind of rude then, and decided that he would let the guy walk with him… maybe for a little while.

After going a little ways through the woods – for his big, over-tall, luggish appearance, the guy was surprisingly quiet as he walked along, not making much noise when he stepped through the leaves and sticks on the forest floor. One thing though, he sure stared a lot, excessively so, _right at Ichigo’s face_. Ichigo stoically ignored him.

Eventually, the guy felt obliged to make conversation, and muttered awkwardly, “So… were you taken to the mountain too when you were a kid?”

Ichigo clenched his jaw. Every fucking time.

“What, is it the hair? God, people always ask me that,” he grumbled. “‘ _Aww, were you born on the mount?’_ No, I was natural born!” Shaking his head in irritation, he huffed, “No one ever believes me.”

Shifting a bit uncomfortably, the guy didn’t speak immediately, making Ichigo think he may have snapped a little too harshly. At last he said, “Well… I guess I don’t know for sure, but I was told I was taken there as a baby.” Gesturing to his hair, he said, “That’s thanks for this, and these, after my second cycle,” he showed his striped arms.

“Whatever,” Ichigo said, pushing through the some sticks onto a clear path. “I have to get back,” he said, awkwardly waving a hand in a goodbye. “It was nice seeing you…”

“Renji,” the man told him. “And don’t go away! I’m coming too!” He followed at his heels, and when Ichigo walked on in silence, he didn’t say anything more either, walking at his side.

“Ichigo,” he said at last, looking up to find his brown eyes gazing onto his face yet again. “Kurosaki Ichigo.”

   In a small voice, Renji replied, “Please treat me nicely." 

       “Same.”

Renji fidgeted quietly for a few moments, and then tried to take his hand. “Hey!” Ichigo muttered, pulling away and frowning, assuming that, along with the staring, could be pinned on cultural differences.

All the same, he wiped his hand on his leg and then walked off. “Geez, you’re weird.” Renji put his head down and turned red again.

 

. . .

 

Yumichika was dragged through the Junrinan and up the base of the mountain, up to the gates of the Fire Palace by the great scaly dragon, screaming and wailing all the while, spitting curses and kicking his legs.

With each step, the dragon transformed into the shape of a man, that of a great hulking hairy _beast_ of a man. Yumichika screeched in disgust, held against the monster man's chest, its great dragon tattoo burning under his hands.

He’d been held gently in a firm grip thus far even though he’s beaten its face with all his might, pounding his little fists against its cheeks, its brow, its forehead, and squirmed and thrashed about desperately, shrieking up a storm.

He was taken further into a lounging room replete with cushions from wall to wall, a great nest, all sparkling with golden linings. Scooped up into the Red Dragon’s humungous arms and forced in, Yumichika landed in a heap. “Oof!” he cried, flopping backwards.

“Take that off,” came a deep dark voice, and before Yumichika could open his mouth to scream, a massive hand squeezed over his face and turned it towards that of the Dragon Man. Eyes wide, Yumichika’s heart pounded quick and fast like a frightened bird, and after a moment he was shaken hard, his very bones rattling.

 _“Come out!”_ he boomed, and with a gasp, Yumichika transformed, short hair spilling out long and luxurious, his face narrowing, eyes glowing silver.

Houzukimaru released his face as Ruri’iro melted into his arms with a happy sigh. He smiled back at him gently and they lay in the cushions together for some time, preening and stroking each other’s faces.

Houzukimaru lazed on his back, his pretty bird lounging atop him. Eventually Ruri’iro sat up from his great chest and braided his hair, slipping off his haori about his shoulders, revealing feather-trailing arms and soft down on his torso as he slipped over Houzukimaru’s large, large body.

He was rolled over into the pillows and was enveloped in warmth and a love that was nearly older than that of the sky and the sea.

Since the first bird called in the hills, since the first scaled belly dragged over the ground; since the first wind blew and caressed the bedrock, since the first flame flickered amongst the leaves, they had been here, and they had loved, and their spirits had danced together in peace and joy age after age.  
  


    Since the first man stood on two legs, they’d bestowed their favor on humanity, and they had loved, oh, they had loved.  
  


Some time later, Ruri’iro preened his feather mohawk and redid his braid, tangled and loose from passion. Houzukimaru opened an eye from a satisfaction-induced nap, content to watch him. One great finger seekingly trailed to his feathers, tickling and scratching through them lazily. Ruri’iro turned with a smile and pressed closer against his big bare chest, leaning into his face and cupping it in comparatively tiny hands.

“Well,” Ruri’iro hummed with a smile, his sweet little nose pressed against Houzukimaru’s dark wide one. “You’ve thoroughly ravished me.”

There came a low rumbling laugh, and Ruri’iro bounced once or twice with the motions of his lover’s great chest. “A sign of how long it’s been,” Houzukimaru agreed after a purr of a sigh.

“I’ve missed you, my love.” Kicking his legs up behind him, Ruri’iro peppered kisses on his face. There came another hum of a laugh, and when Ruri’iro had finished spoiling him, he rolled to the ground and preened himself, smoothing and arranging his long black hair.  
  


      “You smell of flesh,” Houzukimaru noted at last.  
  


Ruri’iro seemed to pause at that, slowly taking his hands down from around his head and peering discreetly over one shoulder. Houzukimaru could smell his unease, even if eons of knowing the other hadn’t alerted to him.

“And you of smoke,” he countered.

When his lover predictably tried dodging the subject, he began more directly, “I know you like to reside among the mortals and let them worship you-”

“And I know you like to reside in the ash and fire of the mountain,” Ruri’iro replied innocently.

“But taking mortal shape?” Houzukimaru inquired seriously.

“. . .” He fidgeted for a long moment, pursing his lips and not meeting his gaze. At last he said, “I know you do not like the mortals…”

Grimacing, Houzukimaru grumbled, “Ruri’iro, I warn thee…”

“You are not my keeper,” he lashed out spitefully.

“I’d be if I had to.”

He put his nose in the air. “You couldn’t if you wanted to.”

Huffing, Houzukimaru demanded, “Why do you do this?” Ruri’iro turned away again, shoulders stubbornly drawn in. “You might bestow your good will upon a mortal born under our star as always, but instead you bind yourself into a shape that won’t yield to you again until the flesh dies, and for what?” he hissed, “Why?”

“I pray you, do not ask what you do not wish to know,” Ruri’iro dismissed, refusing to discuss it further with him. Houzukimaru frowned deeply.

“This may bring discord,” he warned.

“Come what may.”

Eyebrows loosening in confusion and exasperation, he wondered, “... You’d be stubborn unto that?”

Turning towards him and leaning into his face, body curved prettily, he whispered, “Indulge me.” There wasn’t a trick Ruri’iro had that Houzukimaru couldn’t pick out, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still effective enough even when he knew they were in use.

Grimacing, he let the matter drop, and drew a warm hand across his lover’s soft back. “Fickle bird,” he muttered.

“Covetous snake.”

“I covet what’s rightfully mine,” Houzukimaru said under his breath.

“And I’m fickle in my desires,” Ruri’iro replied with a smile, “But not my promises.” He leaned down and kissed him, and Houzukimaru rumbled and purred before transforming into a dragon which then curled into the pillows and around Ruri’iro, who’d been signaled that the conversation was over. He settled in to lounge atop him and play with his silver ball.

It had always been that way. They didn’t need to talk much or even spend much time together, as old as they were. They were forever entwined, no matter where they were.  
  


    The two of them were meant to balance the harmony of this land. When they were at peace, good fortune comes. When they were not, all humanity suffers.


	16. Chapter 16

_Once, long ago, meeting the eye of a crow used to signify an omen of great importance._

 

. . .

  


Imprisoned in the Dragon Emperor’s palace, Yumichika sat in the garden under a willow tree, head on his knees miserably. The great beast was away, having flown off, and Yumichika was alone, trapped here.

He would never see Ikkaku again. How on earth would his husband know where to find him, know where he was, or even if he was gone? Unless his master decided to leave and face the dragon’s wrath later on, and inadvertently allow Yumichika to escape with him, he would be stuck here.

Sadly pondering this, Yumichika turned his face on its side, cheek resting on his knee, arms wrapped around himself. Shivering suddenly, he huddled in tighter, and saw in the corner of his eye, a dark billowing of smoke winding around him.

“My host finally bit the dust, so I came over to play, but it looks like… something’s… going on?” A black and red beam of dark energy leaned in and peered at him in curiosity, bright teal eyes glowing through the shadows. “Did I catch you on a bad hair day? Where’re your claws now, birdie?” he teased, poking and pinching at him.

“Oh c’mon, you’re not still mad about that little hair-eating incident, are you? That kid had to pay me, y’know!”

Drawing in on himself, Yumichika shied away, arms over his head. “Stay away from me!” he cried, at which the dark figure drew back for a moment, startled, but it quickly began picking on him again, lifting one of his arms to take a look.

“I thought so when I last saw you, but I thought it couldn't be true! You’re so… _weak_ like this,” he noted. “What are you doing wearing this thing?” He leaned in to Yumichika’s face with fascination. “Mortal flesh. How does it _feeeel?_ ” he wondered, at which Yumichika scrambled away, hiding his face in his legs. “Being so tiny, confined in there like a _stuffed — sausage,”_ the demon continued with relish, squeezing him with his ghostly body and hissing in his ear.

“Look, hey, I can play your funny game too. Do I look like a man? Be honest.” Changing shape into a more solid form, his figure sharpened into that of a young man, or like the outline of one all filled up with smoke, glowing red around the edges with dark energy. He flexed with a grin. “Check it out – Kazeshini, in the… flesh, I guess? Not the same as what you’re doin’, but sorta’ close… Man, I can’t get over it, you’re in a flesh-bag. Aren’t you havin’ a beauty crisis over this?”

Yumichika whimpered and squirmed when he was pinched and touched some more, but gave up struggling, instead keeping his face pressed into his knees and refusing to come out.

At last the dark spirit grew bored and drew back, yakking, “Me an’ mine stay strictly separate. Easier to stay in charge. It’s funny, you can make ‘em do whatever you want. Even hurt and betray their closest friends. Man, the last kid, he was such a crybaby. That was annoying, listening to all his dumb thoughts. _‘Oh no, don’t make me hurt him, wah, wah.’”_

Humming and floating above Yumichika, tickling his neck with a finger like he were playing with a baby animal, Kazeshini murmured thoughtfully, “I dunno’ why you’d wanna’ be inside someone like that all the time… Man, I can’t get over how squishy you are.”

He took Yumichika’s head in his hands and forced it up to his, “Oi, Kujaku, can I come inside for a sec’ and try it out?”

Suddenly, he took a sniff. His eyes widened in dread and he promptly turned yellow from his long hair to his booted feet. “Shit, your hairy boyfriend’s back,” he quaked. “Later Ruri’.” Immediately, he let Yumichika go and fled.

Yumichika stumbled to his feet and retreated further into the garden, and sure enough, he did hear that the dragon had returned, felt the ground quake with the distant landing of the great beast. Throwing himself to the ground, Yumichika crouched miserably and covered his head, although he knew it was futile to hide.

His heart pounded quick and hard as he heard the dragon stomping through the garden with his great scaly feet, claws digging into the ground, and worse, the terrible sounds of his breath as he sniffed around in search of him. Yumichika whimpered and rolled into a ball stubbornly even once he was found, when Houzukimaru’s snout nudged and sniffed at his back.

“Are you through sulking in there?” he heard after a begrudging moment, feeling the prod of a huge hand. Yumichika would not look at him or speak to him, hiding his face away.

“You won’t let him come out?” Irritated, the Dragon Emperor grit his teeth and growled, “I’ll make you.”

 

. . .

  


Renji felt as though he were living in a dream. The Junrinan was just as magical and wonderful as he’d always imagined. _It was him._ The Red Thread of Fate had led him straight to the boy he’d seen months ago in the fields of the Hokutan. He's so perfect, so beautiful Renji can scarcely believe it. 

When he’d entered that clearing to see him lying there in the flowers, sweetly asleep and glowing with handsomeness, Renji had walked towards him as if in a trance and knelt at his side, leaned over him… Should he-...?

After all the dreams he’d had, telling him his loneliness would end soon, that the thread was growing short, Renji had never imagined such an angel would be brought to him. It must be him he'd been dreaming about. Renji was sure of it. This was who the voice had meant when it had showed him the red flower. He'd been given an unimaginably precious gift upon meeting this person. This was his great love, it had to be.

He was so perfect, lying there, that Renji felt overwhelmed with love and happiness, just looking at his sweet face. He felt compelled to lean down and kiss him, but just as he'd been considering it, his love awoke.

Sure enough, the second he’d heard him speak – uhh, shout – he’d been instantly charmed. It didn’t take more than a day of traveling and adventuring together through the magical forest for Renji to feel sure that he was completely in love with Ichigo, this cranky scowling boy. It felt right that they’d met, that they should be together.

The only disappointment was that Ichigo clearly didn’t know who he was, didn’t know about the thread and that they were meant to love each other very much. Renji, loving him at once, tried to treat him kindly and touch him, hold his hand, but Ichigo pulled away and spoke more harshly with each attempt. So modest and so very shy. Renji would have to woo him slowly and with gentleness.

No matter. Renji saw no reason to rush. His patience could last to the ends of the earth. Now that they were together at last, now that the loneliness was finally over, Renji could endure anything. He felt happy for the first time in so long, peaceful and free. He was content just being by Ichigo’s side, overjoyed to have him in his life after such a long time alone.

As they wander, frequently stopping for rest, both of them equally weak from many days of starvation and exhaustion, Renji finally was able to place a name for the strange dreams he’s always had, this thing that’s always been with him: Zabimaru. That was the being who had watched over him as a child, called him by name, and had led him to Ichigo. From his last dream spent napping in the grass a few feet from Ichigo, who had turned his back to him and rolled into a suspicious ball, Zabimaru was in high spirits that Renji was in the Junrinan – even if by accident – and had ‘come to visit.’

Ichigo was a very serious person. Renji got the sense that through the hardships they’d both undoubtedly faced in their lives, while Renji had always tried to keep his head up and maintain a positive outlook, _hope,_ Ichigo had hardened somehow, had matured too early, and saw naught but grey sadness all around him.

In an effort to cheer him up and coax him into talking – oh, how Renji wanted Ichigo to _like_ him – he shared this secret with him, told him about the things he was discovering about himself, his inner magic, Zabimaru, the voice that had always been there. To his disappointment, Ichigo had just kind of grimaced on one side of his mouth, but hadn’t said anything.

Renji frowned. What did that mean? “Are you going to say anything?” he wondered when Ichigo still didn’t so much as reply or hum in acknowledgement.

“Mm,” Ichigo muttered. “Not to be rude, I just think that’s a total pile.”

“Pile?” Renji said in surprise, drawing back a bit.

“Yeah. Of bullshit.”

“I know what pile means, I just-” Renji scowled a bit, feeling hurt. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Well, I’m not saying you’re lying or anything, I mean, I’m sure you really do believe what you're saying, but magic just isn’t real,” Ichigo said flatly. The outright denial put a pit of anxiety and sickness in Renji’s stomach, not to mention a torrent of confusion.

Was this why when Ichigo had seen him for the first time, he hadn't known him at once? Was this why Ichigo did not seem to feel what Renji had felt, almost _overwhelmingly_ so, at first sight? Because he didn’t know that the red thread was real? Because he didn’t believe in it?

“You… don’t believe in magic? Why don't you?”

“Because it’s not real. It’s just not,” Ichigo muttered, his voice soft this time, and he got up from the ground and walked away, leaving Renji staring after him. Renji got up to follow him after a moment, and continued to ply him for more, but Ichigo was in complete denial of magic.

“But, in my country- I mean, in Zaraki, the queen, she eats a magical apple each night to stay alive! You think that’s not real?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s magic. Has she ever tried _not_ eating one for a full day? Maybe she’d be fine.”

“What about the Juureichi, or the Junrinan, I mean, we’re here right now! My tattoos, they just appeared overnight after two cycles of the calendar!”

“Renji, just because something doesn’t have an explanation doesn’t mean you should pin it on magic. It’s okay to admit when you don’t know the reason for something. You don’t have to make up things to explain it.”

“But I _do_ know the reason! Zabimaru, he-”

“Will you stop already?”

“What about curses, c’mon!” Ichigo whipped around then, teeth bared, stopping Renji short.

“I don’t believe in that fucking garbage, okay? Not everyone thinks the same things you do, so just knock it off!”

“Sorry,” Renji whispered, aghast. “I was just…” But Ichigo had already turned around and stormed off without him. Renji sighed, trudging along some distance back, feeling sad and confused.

He’d hoped that the person he would meet at the end of a red thread would be easy to get along with, would see something inside him worth loving right away, but Ichigo was downright temperamental, and Renji had already made him mad. It figured even his soul mate would find him unlovable.

Other than that, Renji was astounded by what he’d just been told. Ichigo just didn’t believe in magic, which he found absolutely amazing. How could Ichigo not believe in magic when so many strange things happened every day all over the country? How could he not believe when he was so obviously magical as well, no matter what he said about being natural-born. Orange hair, honey eyes, and a strange charm – there was no way there wasn’t a reason for it.

What hurt him was that if Ichigo didn’t believe in magic, it meant that he didn’t know about the red thread, didn’t know they were meant to be together. With great disappointment, he realized that this meant Ichigo did not love him.

By the time the sun was setting and they’d walked many miles through the woods, Ichigo had stopped being quite so cross with him and as they sat around a little fire they’d both managed to make together, Renji raised the question, “So I know you’re going back to the Hokutan, but how come? Why are you out here, I mean?”

They’d caught some fish earlier in a stream – well, that had been more of Ichigo, who had more experience. As good of a forager Renji was, there hadn't been much water in the Rukon, and fishing wasn’t a skill he’d picked up. He'd learned by watching Ichigo, copying him closely. The both of them had stood out in the water as still as could be with sharp sticks, waiting. Now Renji was scraping scales off with the side of a rock while Ichigo made some posts to hold the fish over the fire with.

Ichigo was sullenly silent for a long while. “Ahh,” he finally muttered, scratching the back of his head. “I’m a tenant on the royal family’s rice farms. I got thrown out of my village for trouble-making – but I have to get back there as soon as I can,” he said, whispering again, “I have to get back there.”

“Why?” Renji pressed, liking that, since they were both peasants, he was able to speak freely for once, as was in his uncultured nature to do.

“I have to rescue a friend,” Ichigo explained, setting their food over the coals to cook. It would be barely a few bites with how small the fishes were, but Renji’s stomach still growled at the smell. “She’s being imprisoned in a tower. The Island of the Oni.”

“Wow,” Renji whispered in admiration at Ichigo’s bravery to go back to a place where his master had thrown him out, and then rescue someone from such a dangerous place. “Why’s she being kept there?”

“She’s the Lord’s sister.” Renji gaped at that, but Ichigo didn’t seem to think this of much note, because he continued, “He’s kept her in that tower because he’s worried if the Zarakijin knew about us having a princess, they’d try to kidnap her to their barbarian son for a bride.” Renji pouted at this, but Ichigo rolled one shoulder nonchalantly. “He’s got no wife yet and I hear he’s wandering around these days. If he came across her, he might carry her away.”

Hesitantly, Renji muttered, “I’m in service with Prince Ikkaku. He’s not like that. He’s a very good man.” Ichigo shrugged again, rolling his eyes and tossing his head around like he thought the whole thing was stupid anyways.

Sure enough: “I think it’s a load of bullshit anyway.” Ichigo checked their food, at last taking them away from the fire and holding one out to Renji. Renji bit into his right away, burning his mouth, but crunched right through it, starving.

“Why do you think they really put her there then?”

“Uhh, he put a ‘curse’ on her,” Ichigo said sarcastically with finger quotes and everything, “and if she comes down from the tower, they’ll have to send her away or the land will be cursed. So they say. I don’t believe that either.”

“What if it’s real though?” Renji wondered with his brow pinched together. “What if the crops go bad and-” He bit his tongue, head bowed as he thought of his home in the Rukon, miles and miles of dead and crumbling plants, years upon years without rain. “You’re going to doom all those people because you don’t think the curse is real?”

“It’s not,” Ichigo dismissed. “But they think it is. So I have to get back there and stop them before they do whatever craziness to her. Because they really think something bad’s going to happen. Do you understand, Renji? They’re gonna’ let her die, they’re gonna’ kill her because of some bullshit that’s not even real. It’s not right.”

“Why are you trying so hard for this? Why is this so important to you to save her?” Fidgeting, brows pushed together in woe, Renji murmured, “You could stay here and be safe.”

“She’s my friend. I’m gonna’ rescue her. I swore to myself that I would.”

“That’s brave.”

“It’s not a matter of bravery. It’s wrong that she should die for no reason. So I won’t let it happen.”

   But Renji gazes at him from across the flames and thinks him brave all the more.

 

. . .

 

When Ikkaku had travelled a long time, frequently asking villagers if they’d seen a dragon fly overhead – yes, they had, how could they have missed it – he eventually found the tracks of the attack, where the horses of Yumichika’s travelling group had panicked and bolted. There were no prints from the dragon, only great streaks in the dirt, but that was probably because it hadn’t fully landed on the ground.

Yumichika’s poor attendants had described the great beast just swooping down, snatching Yumichika up, and flying off with him. The thought made Ikkaku sick to his stomach. Was Yumichika alive? Was he about to be eaten at this very moment? Oh god, let him not be too late.

Ikkaku continued on with his heart heavy with worry. The dragon had flown towards the mountain, and as he diverted paths in order to follow its supposed path, he came through to a thick woods, so thick that he thought to leave his horse behind at the edge, but not knowing whether he would return to untie it again, he instead eventually found a cottage with a small pasture and left it in the care of the farmers living there. Even if the path hadn't been so densely wooded, he wouldn't want the horse to spook when they grew near the dragon.

Fighting through thick underbrush for some ways, Ikkaku eventually was able to walk plainly through the trees of a wonderfully cool forest, sheltered from the sunlight by the thick canopy of leaves. As he journeyed, the ground grew soggy to the point of becoming marsh, flooded puddles all about him. He could generally keep to higher roots and patches of damp soil, but occasionally had to trudge through the mud and get his feet wet.

In the dappled spots of sun ahead of him, he spied a little orange blob, a sudden splotch of color on the dark brown ground and surrounding tree trunks. Walking towards it, he saw it was a little fish, lying on the ground, pitifully flopping to try to jump back into the water.

Upon seeing this, Ikkaku picked the little slimy guy up in his hand and set it in the puddle, watching as it perked up and swam around.

When he’d gone a little further in the woods, the trees began to grow further apart, and grass finally started to take root in the larger patches of sunlight. Hearing some sort of animal thrashing about in the grass in a clearing up ahead, Ikkaku slowly walked out towards the noise and found a fox caught in a trap.

After seeing it, he approached cautiously and stepped on its back to keep its frantic terrified snapping at bay while he freed its leg from the metal wire loop. Ikkaku stepped back quickly when it bolted as soon as it was loose, fleeing into the distance of the field of tall grass.

Going on his way, it was only a few hours more wandering back into the dark woods when Ikkaku found a crow dangling from a branch and flapping wildly, leg caught in a vine. As he saw this, he seized the squawking animal and cut it free, untangling it.

When he released it, it flew off, but then as he began to walk off, it circled back around and hopped after him for a ways. Squatting on the ground, Ikkaku fed it a nut or two, watching as it held it with its foot and pried the shell open with its beak.

“You know who I’m looking for?” he muttered, chin on his palm. “My husband’s been stolen.”

The crow paused in eating and cocked its head at him, but said nothing of course.

As Ikkaku went on to find his husband, he left the woods on the other side, and felt frustrated, as though he’d gone in a great circle. Irritated, he met a man in the field and asked him, “I pray you, do you not know where lie the palace of the Dragon Emperor?”

The man showed him the way and also told him the time that he was at home so that he might find him. Ikkaku thanked him and went on, gradually coming through the Junrinan and up to the great mountain. He knew he shouldn’t be here, not for another twelve years, but he had to find his husband.

He treaded carefully through that place, barely daring to breathe too indulgently, not touching a thing or letting his guard down for a moment – but he saw no one, saw nothing unusual other than the fluorescent glow of the leaves above him as the sun shone through them.

Following the directions he’d received exactly, he came to the base of the mountain and saw what he assumed was the palace of the Dragon Emperor, which was actually a very old and elaborate shrine. This was when Ikkaku became very suspicious. Fuck, he _really_ shouldn’t be here. He was trespassing on the home of a very powerful spirit.

He swallowed as he saw the great tracks in the mud where the dragon had clearly landed, dragging its heavy body across the ground. Ikkaku watched as the tracks slowly became more human, becoming footprints that were still far larger than his, and then similar prints, deep and streaking in the dirt.

Yumichika had struggled. Ikkaku followed the tracks with his heart pounding, cautiously coming inside and off through the seemingly abandoned and dark building.

When he stood inside on the smoothly polished floor, he turned and looked around, eyes wide. It was richly yet simply decorated with tapestries and ornamental framework. There wasn’t much by way of furniture in the open front room other than a massive throne and a great hanging scroll adorning the wall behind, a red dragon.

Looking around, breathing heavily with nerves, Ikkaku searched the building, and came to a door with a peg latch.

And to his amazement, he wound the under on the upper, and the door opened unto a garden of such beauty that he lost his breath at the sight.

A great wisteria tree lay in the distance, and as Ikkaku searched, disturbing the occasional snake or songbird hopping about in the grass, he found his beloved in the shade of the hanging blooms, hugging himself.

In alarm, Ikkaku came towards him, placing a hand on his side. When Yumichika lifted his head and saw him, his face lit up in joy and he threw his arms around his shoulders. Ikkaku hit the ground on his knees, holding him close for a long time, cupping his head to his.

“You came,” Yumichika said, his voice scratchy and his face blotched. Ikkaku turned his nose into Yumichika’s hair, throat tight with terror. His husband’s been crying.

“I would go to the ends of the earth,” he replied, holding him in his arms and checking him with a building sense of panic and worry. The way Yumichika had hugged himself… “Has it hurt you?” he rasped. “Did it do something so terrible?” Oh, it can’t be so, don’t let it be true. Ikkaku couldn’t bear the thought of it, someone having hurt Yumichika.

Yumichika rested his head on Ikkaku’s shoulder, limp with relief in Ikkaku’s arms. “It doesn’t matter now that you’re here. I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he whispered. Ikkaku kissed his head and thought wildly that they needed to leave as soon as they could.

“We have to go before it comes back.”

“He’ll hunt me down wherever I go. Until Master decides to go back to the Azure Kingdom, I’ll have to stay here.”

“I don’t accept that,” Ikkaku said through gritted teeth, still holding him close, as though he could prevent him being snatched away again. “We have to try to escape.” Finally they agreed to flee together.  
  


     When they had run off, the dragon returned and looked about, but his princess was not to be found. With a heavy sigh of frustration, he spread his wings and grumbled.

  
         “The trouble your whims cause me.”


	17. Chapter 17

           _Once there was a magical red thread that connected golden hearts together. No matter how far such hearts became, through feeling, distance, or age, using this thread, they might always come back to one another._

_How would two such hearts know the thread was there? What kind of sign might show itself to reveal such a gift?_

_At the blooming of a red lotus, the thread is surely yours._

 

. . .

 

As much as Ichigo might not believe in magic, Renji knew better. Zabimaru showing him that seed all that time ago, the way he’d revealed the red thread to him and led him to Ichigo - there was no other explanation. Ichigo had been given to him from heaven, sent down the mountain by the great spirits to be the one he loved, the one to whom he could devote his heart and soul, who would stay by his side through life’s journey.

Renji couldn’t get enough of the sight of him, spending much of the day letting Ichigo lead them through the woods and just _looking_ at him, the peaches in his cheeks, the roses in his lips, the candy in his eyes, the sunlight in his hair.

His heart was brave and kind and hardened by loss, and Renji felt as though he might do anything to stay at his side. All he wanted was to be close to Ichigo.

Renji knew he still had to get his message to King Kenpachi, but he'd become thoroughly sidetracked, deciding that since the Hokutan was on the way back to Zaraki, he may as well accompany Ichigo in his missive to rescue the girl in the tower.

They stopped for a few minutes to eat some fruits. He’d at first been distrustful of eating any food from the Junrinan, because it may very well be faerie food - and everyone knows never to eat that - but Ichigo did without a second thought, and after it seemed safe, Renji did the same.

Cheeks full as he happily chewed on plums and apricots, he sat next to Ichigo, who'd let him sit quite close to his side.

“I still don’t understand how your lord would send away his own sister,” Renji contemplated when he at last stopped ravenously cramming his face, swallowed, and held his stomach.

Ichigo gave a shrug and was quiet for some time, gnawing a piece of fruit down to the pit as he stared at his toes. At last he said rather seriously, “I dunno’ if you know this, but the lord of the Hokutan once had a fairy wife.”

Renji looked up. “He did?”

“Supposedly.” Ichigo folded his arms on top of his knees and explained. “She died.” Renji’s jaw slackened. “Yeah,” Ichigo repeated, agreeing with his reaction.

“He really loved her, and when she died, his heart turned to ice with loneliness. His estate’s been working us day and night ever since.” Shaking his head, he held a hand out with a sigh. “My point though – he found this girl. She was captured by slave traders or something, but she looked just like his wife, like, _just like her,_ enough that they had to be sisters or twins or something.” Looking off with his mouth twisted in a grimace, he finished.

“Whoa,” Renji mumbled after a moment or two. “How do you know that?”

“She told me,” Ichigo replied, playing with a piece of grass and stretching out on the ground. “Once he found her, he vowed to take care of her and make her his most precious treasure. He made her his princess and put her there in the tower so he’d never lose her.”

In confusion, Renji furrowed his brow. “But if she’s there, he can’t be with her.”

“I dunno’, didn’t say it made sense, that’s just what she told me.”

“And you’re gonna’ save her.”

“Yeah.”

“She sounds really special,” he noted. Ichigo’s eyes were far away for some time, until he nodded softly.

“Yeah. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

Renji nodded, going quiet when Ichigo put an arm over his eyes for a few moments, resting in the sun. He knew how Ichigo felt, just sitting here looking at him, splayed out in the warm grass. He's never seen anything more beautiful. He's never met anyone who makes him feel like Ichigo does.  
  


For a moment he thought back on what Ichigo had said for a few moments more, the girl who’d been with slave traders.

    It couldn’t be, could it? … It sounded like... No, he was overthinking things. It was just wishful thinking, come to haunt him again.  
  


Their winding path through the woods took them far and wide, and at last, they came past a humongous pond, filled with reeds and lily pads. Following at Ichigo’s side as always, Renji glanced out over the water, and then did a double take at the sight of a flower out in the center of the pond.  
  


    _'It's... There it is!'_  
  


“Ichigo, hey,” Renji hissed, waving a hand at him and swatting his side. “Ichigo.”

“What?”

“Look.” He pointed. “Out in the middle.”  
  


Ichigo put a hand up to shield his eyes against the light, squinting and peering wordlessly out at the flower. Knowing immediately what he had to do, Renji hurriedly stripped his shirt and rolled up his pant legs. Ichigo looked at him for a few moments with a frown, then realizing what he was doing, disapproved, “Are you crazy? You’re not getting in, are you?”

When Renji ignored him in favor of placing a leg in the cool water without hesitation, foot meeting the muddy bottom and plunging him up to the waist and then quickly the shoulders, Ichigo hissed, “Renji, don’t. You shouldn’t swim in this kind of place.”

“Why not? You don't even think the Junrinan’s magic anyhow.” Renji stared him in both eyes. 

    
    _'But I'll show you it's real. The flower... I just have to reach the flower, and you'll know. You'll know it's me.'_

 

“That doesn't mean I don't think it's fucking weird! C'mon, get out!”  
  


    _'If I can just get you to touch it, you'll see the thread too, I know it.'_

 

          "I'm going for it," Renji said, determined.

Ichigo grit his teeth and said nothing more. Renji gave him one last look and then swam out to the flower, a red lotus bloom, bright and lovely, settled onto a green lilypad. He looked back at the far shore where Ichigo stood on the path waiting, watching him uneasily. "Hurry up!" he called.

Renji bravely reached out and picked the flower, tearing it from the thick stem and when he did, his chest tightened with a sudden burning warmth, his heart pounding hard. It was a beautiful feeling.

Ichigo stared at him for a long time, but as he swam back to the shore and pulled himself out, soaking wet, and offered the flower to him, Ichigo didn’t say a word to him, giving him one last look, brows furrowed, before he turned away and walked on in silence.

But the warmth doesn’t go away, and Renji was convinced by the way Ichigo had looked at him, that he’d felt the same thing Renji had.  It had worked.

 

    So why wouldn't he take it?

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku and Yumichika escaped the garden together and left the Dragon Palace, running as fast as they could down the road through the woods, hand in hand, but soon enough, they were overtaken by a massive dragon.

He has never felt terror like he had when he’d seen it in the sky behind them, coming closer, until it had swooped down and taken Yumichika in its claws, and to his horror, changed into a man – or what looked like a man made by someone who’d never seen a man, and only been told what one looked like.

Ikkaku crouched defensively, heart pounding, eyes glancing frantically to Yumichika, who was caught in the grip of a massive arm, held up near a meaty shoulder like a baby or a sack of potatoes. He had to get Yumichika back – he couldn’t let this person hurt Yumichika. Ikkaku didn’t know what he was going to do, didn’t know if there was any way he might fight off such a humongous man.

“You have a real nerve, coming into my house uninvited and taking what’s mine,” the beast said at last, brow heavy with a scowl, eyes glaring with hatred into Ikkaku’s.

Ikkaku swallowed, not knowing what to say, so he just stayed silent. As bullheaded and eager to fight as he was, he knew how to pick his battles, and he didn’t know if he even stood a chance against a spirit of the mountain, especially not Houzukimaru, the Dragon Emperor. Not only was he probably twice Ikkaku’s size, he wouldn’t put it past the guy to curse him or his family or his country to some horrible fate for the insult of swiping Yumichika back. If there’s one thing his father had taught him about the fair folk, they could hold a damn grudge. It was part of why the West had been barren of magic for centuries.

He thinks he might have to beg. If he has to, he will, just as long as Yumichika was safe.

“Go in safety,” the man growled, voice deep and powerful. “I will forgive you this once, because you were kind to me in the cellar, but do not come a second time if your life is dear to you.” He made to turn his back and walk away, back to the mountain, and Ikkaku met Yumichika’s eyes over his shoulder, wide and horrified.

“Wait, no!” Ikkaku howled, holding a hand out, “No, give him back, I beg you! I’ll do anything!” The Dragon King at least stopped, sparing him a glance.

“You have nothing to bargain with that I desire, fool boy,” he spat derisively.

In his fear, heart pounding wildly, Ikkaku planted his feet, his mood swinging towards rage alarmingly quickly. “I’ll fight you if I have to, give Yumichika back!” he hollered, because even if it wasn’t sensible to shout at or threaten the person you need a favor from who has leverage over you, he’d never been sensible or diplomatic – that was why he needed Yumichika, why he didn’t want to live another day without him at his side. 

“...” A great yellow eye focused on him for some time, and the man was silent, face set in a harsh frown. “Yumichika,” he said at last, with almost a questioning tone.

“Give him back, you shitty dragon!” Ikkaku snarled, at last drawing his sword out, slashing as hard as he could at the man’s bare unprotected stomach. To his surprise, it bounced off as though from a stone, not leaving even a single scratch or a drop of blood.

Houzukimaru sent him flying several meters with a single swat, tossing him aside like an insect. Ikkaku’s head was ringing, his back aching from being sent tumbling end over end in the dirt, but he’d still plainly heard Yumichika’s terrified shriek, saw his hands fly over his mouth.

 _‘Shit, he’s leaving, he’s taking him away, get up. God damnit, get up!’_ Ikkaku tried to crawl after them, blood running from his mouth and ear.

Gritting his teeth, he rasped, “Give him-”

The ground in front of him shook with the footsteps that came slowly towards him, and at last a massive and heavy foot came down on his arm as he reached out to claw himself towards them.

“Pitiful.”

Ikkaku grit his teeth and then screamed in pain as weight was put on his forearm with a simple roll of the heel, the incredible weight and pressure making his bones creak.

“Please,” he heard Yumichika begging, “Please,” his voice quiet and shaky with panic. Houzukimaru ignored him, releasing Ikkaku’s arm and prodding him onto his back with his foot.

Managing to stagger to a stand, Ikkaku demanded stubbornly, “If you won’t let him go, then you have to fight me! You can’t take him!”

“Fight you? You’re not even good for a warm up.” Houzukimaru kicked him away, sending him flying and rolling over the rough ground, and this time, Ikkaku couldn’t get up. Yumichika cried and cried, calling his name, but he couldn’t move, his body weak and bursting with sharp pains.

“Value your life, Madarame Ikkaku,” he heard, so far away, shit. “If you return, I will kill you.”

At last, a long time later, Ikkaku was able to look up, picking himself up onto his elbows. “He knew my name,” he murmured, then touched his eyes. “... Madarame?”

The poor prince remained there on the ground as if he’d been struck by lightning. If he tried to rescue Yumichika again, he would surely be killed. He hadn’t even been able to scratch its bare flesh.  
  


When he was able to stand, he started off and proceeded home a little ways in a daze of sorrow and defeat. However, he could not overcome his heart, and turned back towards the dragon’s palace.

 

. . .

 

Yumichika was dragged into the castle, weeping and wailing. Gasping through his screams, he sobbed, “You killed him, you killed him!”

“What is the sense in lamenting so for a human child?” Houzukimaru grunted, carrying him as easily as one would carry a squirming infant. He grimaced at the irritation of hearing such a tantrum, annoyed that he was burdened with this fleshy, fragile, screechy mortal. Why Ruri’iro was so fascinated by such a thing was beyond him.

When at last they were home, he dumped the pale imitation of his lover, Ruri’iro, onto the glossy floor, where it collapsed and wept inconsolably.

At first, in his annoyance, he would not speak or respond to ‘Yumichika’s’ cries, ignoring him, but as he began to lapse into _screams,_ clutching his chest with the pain of his sobs, Houzukimaru lost his temper. He stormed towards him and seized him by one toothpick of an arm and yanked him up, dragging him out and throwing him into the bed.

For a moment, it lay still and silent but for the heaving gasps of its little chest, completely winded. “Come out!” he boomed, grabbing it up and holding it up to his face, _“You let him out!”_ he demanded.

Instead of being frightened into compliance, Yumichika began screaming and squirming again, tears rolling down his pink cheeks. “Get you gone, I hate you, oh, I hate you! No!” he howled in despair, “No!”

“If you’re going to pretend to be a mortal, Ruri’iro, I’ll use you like one,” he growled darkly, throwing him down into the pillows.

“No, no, let me free, I want Ikkaku!” it cried beneath him.

“Come out of there!” He shook the little guy around by the hair, and Yumichika gasped sharply in pain, at last retreating, the little cockroach.

Ruri’iro came out, and when Houzukimaru’s glare softened at the sight of him, he smiled with a tired sigh. Houzukimaru ran a gentle finger along the side of his cheek, frowning deeply.

After a time resting together in silence, Ruri’iro said, “Did you truly have to kill him, Houzukimaru?”

Resigned, he replied, “He is your motivation in all this?”

Ruri’iro shook his head with his brow furrowed, as if to wonder how he didn’t know. “You are.”

“I?”

With a fond sigh, Ruri’iro told him, “He’s so like you. If you only knew.”

He huffed a snort through his nose. “Heh’. Stubborn too, I’ll bet.” Dismissive, he waved a hand. “He ain’t dead.”

Ruri sat up and with a contemplative look, noted, “If that is true, he’ll come back, you know.”

With a long sigh, Houzukimaru scolded, “Ruri’iro, if he comes, don’t let him see that little monster again.”

“...”

Taking that as answer enough, he huffed in frustration, “I warn you, this is a great foolishness.” Ruri’iro turned away, putting his nose in the air, as if to disregard his advice. “You let it come out here, but it doesn’t let you come back in the same way. You’re gonna’ get stuck in there until he dies.”

“Because he wants to live,” Ruri said suddenly, turning towards him with a pleading look, almost begging him to understand, his love and care for this little pet of his shining through his eyes. “Because he’s fallen in love with you so truly.”

“Pff’,” Houzukimaru scoffed. “Not with me. Look at how he scratched my face,” he muttered, lip protruding a bit in a dejected scowl. Ruri’iro tutted and stroked the scratches along his cheek.

“You know who I mean. He loves little Ikkaku.”

He butted his head against Ruri’iro’s cheek insistently, muttering, “Don’t say his name when you’re with _me_.” Ruri’iro placed his arms around his neck, holding him, and Houzukimaru enveloped him in his great arms a moment later. “You know I only worry after losing you. It even calls itself by a different name. It has no respect for what you’ve done. It won’t let you live as you please.”

“He wants to live with his mortal love,” Ruri’iro said softly.

“And how will you live with me?” he replied, feeling rather wretched. Mortals didn’t live very long, but he felt uneasy with not having Ruri with him, even for years so short as a human life.

“You and I will be together for all of time,” Ruri’iro noted with a near eyeroll when he picked up on his sentimental nature.

“You’d give yourself away freely to a mortal just for the sake of this- this-”

“Yumichika,” he whispered with a softness to his eyes. “He is Yumichika.”

Houzukimaru gazed into his face for a long time. “. . . Why are you doing this?” he wondered again, brow furrowed. “If I could just understand.”

“Clearly, you can’t.”

He didn’t want to accept that, as they’d always understood each other from the first days of their consciousness, remaining in perfect balance. “You are mysterious at the best of times, birdie,” he muttered. “I can understand a curiosity for mortals and dallying with them. That doesn’t upset me. This is different though.” Ruri’iro didn’t say a word, which had him sighing again in frustration. “Why have you chosen _him?_ It’s as if you purposefully are trying to provoke a reaction from me, or make me angry with you, or…”

“Why does it upset you so that I’ve chosen him?”

“Because how am I now to compete with myself and win?” he hummed with a mournful note, tipping his head sadly onto Ruri’s smaller one, purposefully squishing his feather crest.

“You have me, win or lose,” Ruri assured, not taking his head away to fix his hair just yet, his eyes beaming into his. Houzukimaru gave a long sigh. He knew that, just…  
  
“All the same, it’s… unsettling.” They rarely so much as disagreed, and Houzukimaru disliked it when they argued. He had this uneasy feeling that Ruri’iro would not be budged on this point, however, and eventual discord seemed inevitable.


	18. Chapter 18

_For centuries, great spirits of the Juureichi had granted favor to children that were devoted to them at birth. Red Dragon, after many years of inactivity, had breathed his spirit down inside of a little baby, sending him off into the world._

_Azure Peacock, interested in the baby, chose to become a mortal, and the result of his curiosity about the special boy created a human soul within him._

_At first, he’d only wanted to know his lover, Red Dragon’s mortal shape on mortal terms, but unfortunately, as had happened thousands of times prior, the two mortals fell in love, knowing each other at first sight-_

_. . . As they were probably bound to do._

  


. . .

 

Ikkaku dragged his aching broken body back the way he’d come, staggering in pain; it took him almost a full day with how messed up his back was from being flung around.

So in pain that he didn’t give much of a care whether the dragon was about when he finally managed to stumble through the woods towards the shrine again, Ikkaku went in immediately and found Yumichika in the garden, weeping.

“Yumichika,” he rasped, too far away to be heard. “Yumichika.”

When Yumichika lifted his head, he merely stared at him for a moment, startled, but the next, he leapt to his feet with a gasp and came running into his arms. “Gentle,” Ikkaku wheezed, overwhelmed with joy at seeing him again.

Yumichika held his face in his palms and kissed him all over, and Ikkaku just held him in his arms, and nothing… nothing hurt anymore - not in a metaphorical sense either. It really didn't. Standing straighter, he hugged Yumichika close and breathed a sigh of relief as the pain faded into nothingness.

“I’d thought you were dead,” Yumichika whimpered, head snuggled close against Ikkaku’s.

“Oh,” he breathed back, stroking his hair. “Of course I’m not.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Of course I did,” Ikkaku hummed, “I always will. And when I die, I’ll find you life after life until the end of time.” Kissing Yumichika’s tear-streaked cheeks, he whispered, “That’s the strength of my affection.”

They remained in the garden together under the wisteria tree, comforting each other for some time.

“Ikkaku,” Yumichika murmured at last, tucked away in his arms. “I think it’s best if we say goodbye now.”

“What? Is he meant to come back soon?” Ikkaku wondered.

“I mean for good.” Aghast, Ikkaku was silent for a moment, and with his voice wretchedly heartbroken, Yumichika explained, “I know you don’t understand, but I’m not meant to leave here. You should just go away and forget we ever met – before you’re killed because of me.”

Ikkaku’s throat tightened up in horror, rendering him speechless. All he found he could do was start squeezing Yumichika tighter and tighter, remembering those horrible days by the lake, thinking he’d never see him again. It felt even worse now, the pain, magnified beyond belief. How could he let go of his great love, his husband, and walk away intending never to lay eyes on him again?

But the fact remained that he was too weak to defeat the Dragon King - would he _have_ to leave Yumichika here?

“This is my fault, because I’ve been selfish,” Yumichika wrenched out, fingers digging into Ikkaku’s chest. “I wanted to be with you so badly that I let you be hurt. You should go away.”

“What, but… No,” Ikkaku refused, shaking his head. “How can I? How can I live, knowing you’re here?”

“If you were to die, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“Yumichika, I knew what I was laying on the line when I came to save you. When we got married, I promised I’d be by your side no matter what,” he tried, confident in what he was saying, but crestfallen that Yumichika needed convincing of this. “I’m worthless as a husband as it is, letting him take you away, but leaving you here, how could I do anything other than cry for you for the rest of my days?”

“If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t try so hard to bring me home,” Yumichika told him, voice quavering, reddened eyes filling with tears. Horrified, Ikkaku stared at him, holding him rigidly.

“Oh,” Ikkaku gasped, watching as tears spilled down Yumichika’s cheeks and he turned away, embarrassed, wiping his eyes with his wrists. “...” He tried to comfort him, brows pushed together. “Yumichika, don’t cry,” he tried, stroking Yumichika’s shaking shoulder. “Please don’t cry. What truth?” He shook his head desperately, anything, if only Yumichika would stop crying. “I forgive you, I promise I’d never leave you here.”

“You would if you knew who I really am,” Yumichika croaked. “If you knew how I’ve deceived you.”

Ikkaku shook his head. “I don’t understand what could ever make me stop loving you,” he whispered, pleading, “Yumichika, don’t cry. I promise we’ll figure this out.” Wrapping Yumichika in his arms, Ikkaku dug his head into Yumichika’s hair when Yumichika at last clung onto him and sniffed.

At last as Ikkaku continued to puzzle over how they might get away together, he became greatly distressed himself, because he didn’t think there was any way he could defeat the dragon. He’d taken it on well enough with the help of his men, chaining it up, but he got the feeling now it had barely been putting up an effort.

The blows that had cracked his bones and battered him to a stupor had been mere swats, like shooing a fly. There was no hope of defeating such strength.

There was no way he could take Yumichika away from this place. Oh, he would never have his sweet Yumichika home again.

“Oh Yumichika, how will we ever escape?” he mourned pitifully, feeling on the verge of giving up hope. “How are you to meet the king, my father? How will you rule with me?” He felt greatly saddened by the thought. He and Yumichika would never have their warrior children all around them or love to the end of their days just because he was too weak to set them free.

Wondering with a long sigh, he muttered, “My home country is at war in my absence. And what about you, how will your empire fare without you?”

Resting in his arms, head on his shoulder, Yumichika murmured, “You are free to leave, love.”

“Not while you’re here, so far away!” he shot back indignantly.

“I have no empire, Ikkaku,” Yumichika confessed quietly.

“The great palace I found you staying in?” Ikkaku frowned in confusion. All the servants and townspeople who'd seen Yumichika had treated him as king, or royalty, at least.

“Is not mine to rule,” he finished.

“Are you not the emperor there?”

“The subjects call me so.”

With a heavy sigh of fondness, Ikkaku hummed, “Ahh, Yumichika, you’re so mysterious,” hugging him. “Even so, I will not leave without you until I know that you and I can rule together as heirs to my father’s empire and be happy the rest of our lives.” Yumichika gave a little smile.

Ikkaku grumbled a bit. That damn dragon was too big and fast, and would overtake them no matter how fast they ran. If they had perhaps a day’s headstart? … Or a place to hide.

“If only we had a horse to escape on,” he muttered, hand on his chin in thought.

At that, Yumichika sat up with his eyes bright and mischievous. Ikkaku let his arms fall from Yumichika’s sides, trying to read his face. “Leave that to me, my love,” Yumichika said.

Ikkaku was quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed and head tilted as he tried to parse what Yumichika meant. He watched him straighten his hair and clothes, and at last assumed, “You think you can win the dragon’s favor?”

Glancing to Ikkaku with a sparkle in his eye and a smile, Yumichika agreed, “Perhaps he will do me a turn.”

Frowning, he wondered uncertainly, “Yet you will remain faithful to me?”

To his delight, Yumichika tossed himself into Ikkaku’s lap and assured, “On my life, my soul has not betrayed yours, and never shall.”

They both looked up at a sudden distant noise from the palace. Yumichika briskly made to get up. “He’s returned, I must fly.” He kissed Ikkaku’s lips and turned, leaving his lover to vault the high garden wall before they were found together.

Yumichika closed the door to the garden, walking swiftly down the corridor, and as he did, going into the palace and walking up the ornate steps through the hall, his body transformed, growing tall and strong, hair falling long against his back, robes sweeping behind him.

Ruri’iro found Houzukimaru a time later out back, some ways up the mountain on an outcropping of rock near a spring and some greenery. There he sat, drinking from a wide dish and watching the sky. He seemed pleased when Ruri’iro came to sit beside him, offering him the dish for a drink.

Even going so far as to offer a smile, he asked as he was accustomed to do, “Have you kept my treasure safe?”

Ruri’iro produced a large silver ball in his hand, palm full with it, and stroked it fondly, eyes sparkling at the sight of it. Houzukimaru smiled a bit on one side of his mouth. "Is that a scratch I see?"

"Certainly not!" Ruri'iro fluttered, ruffled with offense. Houzukimaru chuckled teasingly. Eventually, with a charming grin, Ruri’iro sighed, “Ahh, Houzukimaru, grant me a wish.”

“Anything you desire, silly bird.”

“Remember if you can, when you were Guan Yu,” Ruri’ began, at which Houzukimaru rolled his eyes with a heavy huff.

“ _I_ was not,” he grumbled stubbornly.

If he was going to play that game, then Ruri’iro would make this as annoying as possible. “When the babe was born under your star and you bestowed him with your dragon's might and you saw with his eyes and fought with his arms and breathed with-”

“Very well, I remember,” he admitted, if only to stop him talking. Ruri’iro smiled, feathers perked up in satisfaction.

“And the mortals worshipped him as a god because his prowess in battle was so great,” he continued.

“I remember.”

“And you whispered the secrets of the Art of War in his ear?”

Houzukimaru gave a great sigh of irritation, taking a long drink of sake and staring out at the sky, brow heavy with brooding acceptance that Ruri’iro was not going to let the matter drop. “. . .”

“And not so very long after when you were Xun Guan,” Ruri’iro continued tirelessly, smiling as he remembered the past. “How she led an army to stop the revolt against her father’s people not yet at the age of fourteen.” He caught Houzukimaru smiling at that one, although he continued to pretend indifference. “And yet remember Tang Saier?”

Houzukimaru burst into a bit of laughter then.

Plan executing itself to perfection, Ruri’iro lounged about and enjoyed reminiscing to his stoic partner. “How cleverly she escaped after leading tens of thousands of slaves in revolt and killed all the emperor's envoys, how she feigned defeat and then led a raid and then escaped without a trace.”

He laughed a bit more. “She took refuge in my temple.”

“And remember you lastly Lin Siniang,” Ruri’iro at last hedged, watching carefully for a reaction. Sure enough, Houzukimaru’s eyes immediately clouded with endless grief just at the sound of her name.

“How we both smiled upon her and bestowed her with all the best - good fortune and mild temperament, lovely beyond compare, strong as the mountain, yielding as the water,” Ruri’iro remembered her, voice soft with care. “How loved she was be we two.”

Houzukimaru was silent, looking very sorrowful, but perhaps a little proud as well.

“How the King, Zhu Changshu saw the lowly prostitute of the river honing her skill by night, how he fell in love with her savage grace at first sight. How he took her as his princess over every concubine and court lady because something resonated in their souls.” Voice hushed with anticipation, Ruri’iro remembered that far away time and place, “They met eyes, and they knew one another at once, and they loved.”

“The drought,” Houzukimaru rasped at last when Ruri’iro didn’t finish the story.

“And then the drought,” he agreed, “And then the bandit revolt. And the capture of the king.” Scolding his arrogance even now, Ruri’iro muttered, “How foolishly he underestimated a group of thieves.”

“Enough.”

“And then Siniang-”

“Enough, I say,” Houzukimaru insisted, voice very small.

“And then Siniang led an army of girls to rescue him, all of which fought and killed bravely,” he continued mercilessly.

“Ruri’iro, no more,” Houzukimaru begged.

“Soon only Siniang was left alive as her comrades were killed one by one, yet her fighting spirit could not be extinguished, and she fought and fought until she was too exhausted to escape the sword that killed her,” Ruri’iro finished, “A warrior unto the bitter end for the sake of her loyalty unto her sweet love.” He whispered, “Do you not remember that?”

Houzukimaru looked at him at last, expression hard and wounded, but there was an undeniable look of quiet pride shining through the sorrow.

“How the king wept endlessly when he was rescued and heard of her sacrifice,” Ruri’iro murmured sadly.

“I do remember,” he said.

“And never after did you shine your favor on a mortal, so deep was our grief,” he ended. “Not until now,” he scolded. Houzukimaru looked ashamed for a moment, then gave a long sigh.

“A moment of weakness when I heard the babe’s battle cry as he took his first breath,” he admitted resignedly.

“And do you yet hate the mortals that have brought us together time and time again, that have waged glorious battle in our spirit?” Ruri’iro wondered hesitantly. They’d not talked on this for many long centuries after they’d lost their wonderful girl Siniang. Houzukimaru hadn’t been able to bear it.

“All of them foolish knaves who sometimes surprise me.”

“Were you so very hurt by her death?” Ruri’iro asked softly, frowning in sadness, his eyes trained on Houzukimaru’s face, pained in turn by his lover’s pain. When he recieved no response, he pressed, “My dear, mortals are a fleeting thing. No matter how bright they shine, they fade and wither, it is an inevitable force of nature.”

“I know it well,” he hummed back, looking off into the distance, his voice wrenched deep with pain, “Foolish, foolish girl.”

“Death in the name of love is not foolish. It speaks to the integrity of spirit, and I know this is the reason for the depth of your grief.”

They sat in silence for some time, and at last Houzukimaru gave him a long look, running a big hand along the side of his head. Ruri’iro smiled, and he smiled back after a moment, lifting out of his dark mood a little.

“Have you tried to make me weep, little bird? Have you made a wager with that pinwheel guy?”

“Who?” Ruri’iro replied innocently, although he was sure Houzukimaru saw straight through him. He let his big fingers tickle through his feathers and hair.

“If not, then why are you are you so nostalgic just now, hm?”

Turning up the charm to get his way, Ruri’iro hummed, trailing a finger along his lover’s great chest. “I only wonder, how is it that each brave warrior you shine favor upon has such a swift and loyal steed.” Houzukimaru grunted in response. “Where does one procure such a beast, Houzukimaru? You’ve long kept it a secret from me. Oh, won’t you tell me?”

Houzukimaru likely saw right through his gushing, but indulged him anyways, as always. He at least pretended to consider in silence for some time. “. . . The Crimson Princess has become a man, as you have.” Ruri’iro perked up and gave a wide grimace to his lover, that he should scold him so for the whole Yumichika thing, but still associate with _her._ “He’s lived for eons in a hut, tricking passing mortals into working for him till they become dust. There lay the horse.”

“How would one procure such a horse from her?” Ruri’iro was a little wary of sending Ikkaku under the jurisdiction of another spirit, nearly as powerful as they were, especially Crimson Princess. All the same, if he could send the boy to get Houzukimaru’s horse, he could surely escape with Yumichika.

“Where I left the horse, nobody can make a purchase. On a hill far away, the man lives - he has twelve horses in a stable, such that one wouldn’t know which is better than the other. One of them in the corner looks sickly, but it is the best of all,” Houzukimaru revealed. “This one can run with the speed of the four winds. Whoever seeks a favor from the man must serve him for three days. He has a mare and a foal. Whoever watches the mare for three days successfully will be allowed the choice of whichever horse they wish. Should they fail, they must serve until they turn to dust. If they will not serve, they lose their life then and there.”

Ruri’iro wrinkled his nose in frustration, unattractive as it was to scrunch one’s face. “Ahhh, what a horrifically malevolent being,” he huffed, “I can’t believe we’re related to such a cruel, manipulative-”

“I remember a few of your tricks, Ruri’,” Houzukimaru pointed out with a fond grimace.

“You hush.”

“And she’s not malevolent,” Houzukimaru smirked, “Merely mischievous.”  
  


. . .

 

When they came out of the Junrinan finally, they found they’d come past the Fugai and were at a river, fog-covered and spooky. It was late at night, and as Ichigo led them out of the trees, he held out an arm suddenly. Renji halted, watching him closely.

Ichigo had been acting strange since the moon had come out, growing even less talkative than usual. What was most perturbing was that his brown eyes glowed gold, his expression stark.

“What?” he whispered as they reached the edge of the woods and looked out over the water, the first thing he’d said in many hours. “What are they…” Renji looked up and saw a few people milling around at the edge of the river.

“Guards?” he breathed back, and Ichigo grit his teeth in irritation. "Did they know we would come?"

"Must have... Fuck, who tipped them off?"

"What are we going to do now?" Renji whispered. 

“They oughta' just fuck off,” he growled darkly, glaring with such viciousness that Renji took a step back, his breath caught in his throat when he saw Ichigo’s sclera turn black, leaving his eyes empty like two dark holes but for the glowing beam of gold in the center.

“... Ichigo?” His fingertips tingling, heart pounding in his ears, Renji watched as the guards surrounding the lake looked around confusedly to each other, seeming to be talking, and then as one, walked off.

Ichigo watched them go, and once they were gone, said, “C’mon, let’s hurry.”

“Ichigo,” Renji insisted, but followed after him to the edge of the water and into a rickety little boat.

“Keep watch,” Ichigo told him as he rowed them out from the shore. Renji looked around wide-eyed, heart in his throat.

As they landed the boat in the sand, shoving it up the shore a little and then walked into the woods, Renji stayed close to Ichigo’s side, head whipping around at the slightest noise. An eerie howling started up in the distance, raising the hairs on his neck. Ichigo seemed to think this of no concern, moving through the forest purposefully, as if able to see a path before him.

Looking about in the darkness, Renji startled, nearly yelped aloud when he saw something moving through the distant trees – a tall dark figure with a pale white face. There came a loud sudden cry, a _shriek,_ and Renji jumped, clinging close at Ichigo’s side. “What was that?” he whispered, frightened out of his wits.

“Shh,” Ichigo hushed.

“Ichigo, what was that?” Renji insisted, shaking all over and yanking on Ichigo’s arm.

“An Oni,” he told him, continuing on through the dark, golden eyes burning through the shadows. “Keep it down.”

“Oni?” Renji squeaked, looking about wildly, panting harshly. He could see it out there, flashing white in the light of the moon, its face turning towards them. They were going to die. They were going to die out here. It was coming to get them.

“Shh, you have to be quiet.” Renji put his hands over his mouth, trying to control his breathing, body heaving. He felt dizzy with terror. “Renji, it’s gonna’ hear us,” Ichigo hissed.

“I’m scared,” he breathed. “I’m really scared, Ichigo.”

“Shh, Renji, shhh,” Ichigo insisted, putting a finger to his lips, but Renji would not take another step. At last, Ichigo turned back, eyes brown and tender, and he reached out and took Renji's hand, leading him along. “Just a little farther.” Comforted into silence, Renji was able to calm enough to quiet his breathing and follow.

At last they came to a grassy clearing, empty but for a neatly stacked pile of logs and a dark tower made of stone. Ichigo released his hand and ran up to the edge, peering at the top of the tower. “Ichigo,” Renji hissed. “We can’t go in there. What about the curse.”

“It’s too late for that now anyways.” Ichigo scrabbled around the bottom of the tower, at last ripping back branches in a rose bush, scratching up his face and arms, finding boards in the ground and prying at them until his fingernails chipped and bled. “Help me with this.” The two of them jumped on the boards until they split and broke. Renji lowered Ichigo down through the hole, looking around behind him uneasily.

“It’s no good. Dead end.” Ichigo pulled himself back out and looked up at the peak. “I have to climb." 

“Climb?” Renji said stupidly, the idea not making sense for a moment, until Ichigo began cursing and pointing to some broken pieces of wood.

“Shit, they tore my ladder down.” Ichigo looked up at the window for a moment or two more, before throwing himself against the wall, gripping the bricks and trying his hardest to pull himself up.

“Ichigo,” Renji hissed. “Ichigo, it’s not gonna’ work, get down before something comes!”

“We’re fine,” Ichigo barked. “They’re not coming out. I dunno’ why, but they’re not, so…”

Falling to the ground, Ichigo grit his teeth and tried again. “My lady!” he suddenly shouted, at which Renji startled and looked around in alarm. “Princess! Where are you, come down!” Ichigo continued yelling at the top of his lungs, a note of desperation coming through. “Lady Rukia, answer me!”  
  


   Renji’s stomach dropped out. “Rukia?” he whispered, throat dry.  
  


“Princess!” Ichigo hollered, panicked, “Rukia, where are you?!”

Approaching the base of the tower, he put his hands to the walls, mind in a whirl. _Rukia, Rukia, Rukia,_ was it true? Could it be true?   
  


   “She’s alive?”  
  


He watched as Ichigo managed to cling to the bricks and at last reach a dangling piece of rope and pull himself up to the windowsill. Renji paced restlessly at the base, staring up where Ichigo had disappeared into silence. At last he came to the window and called down to him, “Renji, catch!”

It took a second or so for that to penetrate fully, and when it did, Renji hollered back in panic, “No, don’t-!” but Ichigo had already hefted this little limp body up over the windowsill and then she was falling. “WAH!” Renji yelped, holding his arms out, throwing himself under her and managing to grab her, coming down hard on his back.

For a second or two, he couldn’t move at all, wind knocked out of him, and then he hollered in rage, “You idiot, what if I dropped her!”

Ichigo swung his legs over the windowsill, slowly beginning the climb back down, and Renji sat up, aching all over. And there she was in his arms, it really was Rukia. He hadn’t seen her in so long, but she was unmistakable.

Renji held her in his arms, almost unable to process it. She was here… she’s really here. They were together again. He’d missed her so much…

“Rukia…” he said, resting her head on the crook of his arm and just gazing at her.

The joy of seeing her again faded quickly. Her cheeks were pale with sickness, and she was limp and motionless. Openmouthed, Renji looked over her in despair, eyebrows scrunched together. What was wrong with her?

Ichigo made it to the ground and quickly approached them, breathlessly. “My lady,” he called, but she didn’t respond. “Lady Rukia,” Ichigo said, crouching at Renji’s side and putting a hand to her cheek. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around as if wondering what to do. “She’s gonna’ die.”

“No,” Renji blurted, shaking his head, his mouth contorting with grief as he tightened his arms around her. “No,” he murmured, throat tightening, “No, no, no, no.”

Ichigo tore at his hair and whipped around, kicking viciously at the wall and the bushes, snapping, _“She’s gonna’ fucking die,”_ as if unable to process and accept it himself.

“The curse,” Renji whispered, turning her face up to his, eyes darting frantically over her cold blue cheeks. His heart clenched in despair. She couldn’t die, not just as he’d finally found her. He’d thought he’d never see her again, and now she was to be snatched from him just like that? They had to stop this, she can’t die, she can’t.

“She’s really sick, we have to get her some help,” Ichigo insisted urgently, feeling her forehead. “They plan to strap her to a board and sink her in the river to give to the river guardian. To end the curse. I won’t fucking let them,” he snapped.

“Ichigo, we have to go,” Renji whispered. The howls were growing closer around them. He held Rukia close to him, not feeling so much afraid as he had before, instead ready to fight to protect her at any cost. “The Oni.”

“I’m not afraid of the Oni,” Ichigo bit out, meeting his eyes hard, and Renji understood. He squeezed Rukia against his chest, and he finally understood that unstoppable bravery and tireless drive.

“We have to leave here,” he urged. “In the north, there’s a magical tree-” Ichigo’s face fell and he knelt close to Rukia’s face.

“She’s fading,” he whispered, and Renji’s confidence faltered at seeing the hope drain from Ichigo’s face.

“The prince I serve there, there’s magical apples, they can stop death,” Renji insisted. “We’ll get one and give it to her. I’ll trade my life, if only she can live.”

“There’s no time to get one,” Ichigo said flatly, the life gone from his voice. “And who says it’ll even work.”

“We have to do something, we have to go, they’re gonna’ come and take her.”

Ichigo put his arms out, carefully took her, and helped put her on Renji’s back so he could carry her through the woods. She weighed so little that to keep her from falling off, he had to bend forward and continuously try to heft her up so her limp head stayed on his shoulder. He followed Ichigo through the darkness of the trees and out into the boat, and under the light of the moon, they tried to escape with her into the woods of the Junrinan.

By then, it was clear they were being pursued, and after running as much as was possible without jostling Rukia too badly, they felt they were far enough ahead of Kuchiki’s men that they stopped and hid by some rocks.

They lay together in the grass with Rukia between them, each of them with an arm around her to keep her warm. Ichigo’s hand rested on Renji’s side as he slept, and Renji tentatively did the same, placing his hand on Ichigo’s back, his nose in Rukia’s hair.  
  


     That night, Renji had a dream, a whisper that he’d always known. He didn’t know where he was, but he was lying on his back in a white shift, and a warm strong body with soft fur was curling about his face, cold scales winding about his throat and joints, but never strangling.

They spoke together as always, but he didn’t remember what about, couldn’t hear what about, but he could feel that the words he said made sense.

When he woke up, there was the sound of shouting and barking dogs in the distance, hunting them down through the woods. Renji sat up in surprise and saw that Ichigo was also awake and staring. Rukia lay motionless and limp between them still, but she was also standing there before them, grey and ghostly.

The replica of his childhood friend smiled and raised a finger in front of her mouth, then walked towards the shouts of their pursuers.  
  


“What was that?!” Renji wondered.

Ichigo swallowed hard, staring after the grey lady, but then got up and hefted Rukia into his arms. “Who cares, we have to keep moving,” he dismissed. “At least it’ll slow them down.”

 

     Renji looked behind him one more time before following.


	19. Chapter 19

_Once there was a simple shopkeep._

_That’s the end, really..._

  


. . .

 

On the morrow, the dragon went away, and Ikkaku stole back into the palace when he saw it disappear over the horizon.

“Yumichika,” he said when he found him safe in the garden. Yumichika handed him a piece of paper with written instructions. With a suspicious eye, Ikkaku looked Yumichika over from head to toe. Had he been ravished by the dragon in exchange for this information?

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ikkaku promised, and held Yumichika to him, planting a burning kiss upon his lips before they parted ways.

Walking out through the woods, Ikkaku read the instructions slowly. “‘Go into the Junrinan and search for a hut. There lives a man who can give us what we need. Take service with him to win a favor, and when you do, choose the lowliest and most humble prize.’” Ikkaku turned the note over and continued.

“‘Exercise caution, my love. He will trick you at the first opportunity and ply your heart with greed.’ Huh.” Ikkaku wasn’t bothered by this, instead finding it charming that his husband worried for him so – but he kept Yumichika’s advice in mind all the same, considering they were in this mess because he’d disregarded it before.

He started off through the Junrinan, quite enjoying himself this time as he wasn’t tearing through it wildly in search of Yumichika, thinking him dead – or the time he’d dragged himself there, mangled and battered. The sun sparkled through the trees with an otherwordly gleam, and oddly enough, despite the heavy shade provided by the leaves, the ground wasn’t dirt, still soft with thick grass.

It took him perhaps a day and a half to find the place Yumichika had told him to go. It lay on the border of the magical forest, the rolling pastures and the gorgeous blue sky of the East opening up all around it. He didn’t know why it seemed any more special than any other hut out here, but when he saw it, he knew it was the one. He’d come upon it almost too easily, as if his feet had been led straight there through the woods, but he paid this no mind. He’d call it luck for now.

He marched straight up to the door, knocked on it, and when he entered, he said to the man seated inside, “Good morning, Oji-san,” deciding to heed Yumichika’s warning and treat this person with careful politeness.

“Prosperity on your head, my son,” said the man, hair unnaturally light, like sand. It had Ikkaku staring, actually. He wasn’t used to it. His eyes were in shadow under a hat pulled low on his head, and Yumichika was right; he seemed inherently untrustworthy. As much as Ikkaku took pains to distance himself from his father’s harsh opinion of Easterners, everything about this guy put an uneasy feeling in his gut.

“What brings you here?”

“I should like to take service with you,” Ikkaku requested, bending slightly.

The man gave a frightening grin, but covered it with a folding fan, opening it with a snap. His eyes peeked out from between his fan and the brim of his hat, and Ikkaku had to bite his cheek to fight a scowl. Who wore a hat indoors?

“Very good,” he said, standing from the table and holding an arm out to show him outside to a small shack, just large enough for an animal.

“I have a mare with a foal. If you watch her for three days, I will give you one of these twelve horses of mine to take away, whichever you choose,” he told Ikkaku, then grinning even wider – Ikkaku could tell from the crinkle in his cheeks. “But if you fail to watch her successfully, I shall take your head.”

Ikkaku had been listening closely thus far, quiet in careful attention, but when he heard this, he narrowed his eyes in a frown. The man took him around the side of the house then and showed him several posts stuck into the ground, each one driven through a human head. Ikkaku turned his eyes away from the fresher ones, rotting flesh still clinging to the bones. There was one post left empty, and as they came near it, it continually cried out, _“ A head, Hime-sama, give me a head!”_

Ignoring its shrieks, the man said with a sly smile, “Know that all these engaged to watch the mare and the foal, but were unable to watch successfully.”

Ikkaku was in no way terrified by this, confident that he would pay any price, take any risk to see his sweet Yumichika home safely. “This does not change my mind.”

“Excellent.” A quick snap of the fan again, and a wide grin. “Three days.”

That afternoon, Ikkaku mounted the mare and galloped uphill and down, enjoying the sunshine, and the foal followed after them, trotting along behind. They did this until midnight, and Ikkaku eventually started to get sleepy, and nodded off.

When he woke up at dawn, his arms were around a stump instead of the mare’s neck, the halter still in his hand. When he saw this, he became dizzy with terror and started to look for the horse in a panic. Shit, that guy’s gonna’ take his head! He’s been so dumb, underestimating this guy when Yumichika had warned him! The guy was probably a fae too, it would explain a lot.

Having searched fruitlessly for almost an hour through the woods, he paused by a sheet of water, sighing anxiously, and as he did, he saw a little fish flapping its tail and swimming in a peculiar circle in the water. As soon as he saw it, that fish and a hundred others which seem to rise through the murk out of nowhere and all swim away from him in the same direction. As he watched them go, he looked up and saw the mare in the distance on the other side of the water.

He gave a little jump of surprise and ran after her. “Hey you!”

Ikkaku put the halter on her and leapt onto her back, and trot trot back to the man’s hut. When he brought her in, the man gave him dinner and let the mare into the stable, scolding her, “Among the fishes, good for nothing rogue? . . . His friends you say? Very well, go among the foxes.”

Ikkaku looked up when he heard this, but paid it not much mind.

Stuffing his face on rice when the guy came back into the room, Ikkaku pointed his chopsticks at him for a second, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Heyyy,” he said, “Didn’t you used to rule the swamp kingdom? I’ve seen your portrait before.”

“What kingdom?” the guy denied, which just confirmed it even further for Ikkaku. He knew he’d seen him before now.

“Yeah, you’re- Ahhh, you’re-” He snapped his fingers. “Urahara!” he remembered.

Urahara snapped his fan open innocently. “No such person.”

“Hmph,” Ikkaku grunted and lounged about resting for the rest of the day.

The second day, Ikkaku mounted the mare and galloped uphill and down, the foal galloping after. Thus till midnight. Again, he fell asleep and woke up with his arms around the stump and the halter in his hand.

Upon realizing this, he sprang to his feet and screamed, “God damnit!” and took off to find her.

As he was looking about in frustration, it came into his head that Urahara had talked about foxes the night before, so he went into the forests quietly, searching. To his amazement, it didn’t take long before a fox darted out in front of him, across the wooded path.

He followed it and followed it as it ran from him, until at last it howled and disappeared over a hill, and when Ikkaku reached the top, panting, there was the mare. “You!” She didn’t run at the sight of him, eating grass and giving him a rather bland look. “You know what you did!” Ikkaku scolded.

He got on her back and took her home to Urahara. Urahara fed him and led the mare off to the stable. This time Ikkaku pretended to eat, but listened closely. “Among the foxes, good for nothing rogue? . . . They as well? . . . Be among the crows.” Ikkaku felt emboldened when he heard this. There was just one more day left. He could do this.

Perhaps it was foolish to be so confident when he had a history of falling asleep when it was important not to, but Ikkaku had a plan.

On the third day, he mounted the horse, and, thinking himself smart, when he became exhausted, he tied the mare to a tree and made a fence around her and the foal. He laid down on the ground and rested then, shutting his eyes.

When he woke up, the tree he’d tied the horse to was but a stump and his arms were around it, the halter in his hand. The fence was undisturbed, to his utter bewilderment. He sprang up and went to search for crows.

Hour after hour, until his feet ached in his boots and his eyes itched and strained, try as he may, he could not see a single bird anywhere.

As time slipped away, he began to despair and panic.

“Oh Yumichika,” he whispered, heart filling with rage and sorrow. “I’ll lose my head and leave you to that awful dragon. I’ve been a fool.”

He was just about to sit down in defeat, having given up hope, when he heard a distant call of a bird. Head snapping up, he followed the song through the enchanted trees at a dead run, and there was the mare.

He whooped in joy, running towards her. In relief, he hugged her around the neck and ruffled her mane. Leaping atop her back, he brought her to Urahara and told her, “Well, I’ve served you honestly, and now I ask that you give what we’ve agreed upon.”

Urahara’s eyes flickered with red light, and for a moment Ikkaku thought he wouldn’t agree, that he’d go back on his word – but Ikkaku stood firm.

Fan opened in front of his face, he held an arm out towards the stable. “My son, what is agreed upon must be given.” Ikkaku nodded and hesitantly opened the door, blinking and rubbing his eyes when the tiny shack revealed inside to be a large barn, holding many animals.

“Here are twelve horses,” Urahara showed him. “Choose whichever you please.”

“Why should I pick and choose?” Ikkaku said, remembering Yumichika’s words. “Give me that one in the corner, there’s none better in my eyes.”

Urahara raised an eyebrow and began to dissuade him, which admittedly made Ikkaku feel rather defensive. “Why choose that skinny one when there are so many good strong ones?”

Ikkaku insisted, “Give me the one which I ask for, such was our agreement.”

Urahara gave it without much more ado and a sinister smile.

Ikkaku mounted it and said farewell, feeling that he was a mouse being played with by a cat and had only narrowly escaped death.

“Madarame,” Urahara called after him. Ikkaku paused, resisting the urge to feel the markings around his eyes, his stomach tight with uneasiness.

He turned to meet the eyes of the man who he was sure now wasn’t human – why else would he call him the same thing the Dragon Emperor had called him?

“It’s been a long time that I’ve been unable to ply a simple heart with greed.”

 _‘I’m sure it has,’_ Ikkaku bit back.

Eyes sparkling from between his hat and fan, Urahara wondered, “Tell me the source of your determination.”

“I have to rescue my love from the Dragon Emperor,” Ikkaku said shamelessly. Urahara lowered his fan enough to smile.

“A noble cause, my boy.”

He didn’t get why they were having this conversation. After grimacing for a moment, he decided to say, “I know you’ve been trying to trick me to my death these past three days.” Narrowing his eyes, he accused, “You’ve been playing with me.”

“I confirm nothing nor deny anything,” Urahara dismissed, “But let me thank you for being so congenial through it.” Ikkaku snorted.  
  


      “Also, please accept this in your quest to rescue your lady love.”  
  


He knew it wasn’t exactly a good idea to accept gifts from Easterners – at least his dad had always told him so, because accepting gifts from those who were fae or _might_ be fae could put you in their debt. All the same, he didn’t want to get Urahara on his bad side by refusing.

“There’s no lady, but…” Ikkaku watched as Urahara produced a naginata from his coat – how it had fit there, he had no idea. Ikkaku held the weapon in his hand.  
  


 _‘Magical,’_ he noted, eyes wide as he marveled at it. “Thank you,” he said, accepting it.  
  


“Don’t thank me. This is returned, not gifted.” Urahara tipped his hat. “You’d best move along now, I have other customers coming soon.”

Ikkaku gave a half-smile and raised a hand, riding off.

“Goodbye, my son!”

“Bye,” Ikkaku returned, then turned and rubbed his eyelids again. “Madarame…”


	20. Chapter 20

“There,” Ichigo hissed. “There’s a house.” The two of them were running away as quietly as they could. Renji held Rukia to his chest, her legs around his waist and limp arms flung around his neck, and followed Ichigo as he led them through the woods, running ahead of him.

“Are you sure? We’re still out in the sticks,” Renji panted, hefting Rukia back up. For the tiny weight she was, her body was so limp that she flopped off if he didn’t hold onto her very carefully. With the sounds of the hunting dogs and shouting men closing in on them though, it wasn’t hard to squeeze her tight out of fear that she’d soon be ripped away. “What if it’s a fairy house?”

“Fae aren’t fucking real, Renji!”

“They are, just face it! The house has a sign that says ‘Miracle Man’ on it!”

“There’s no such thing as a miracle!” Ichigo protested, stubborn in even such a dire situation. “A miracle’s just a coincidence that works out in your favor, but you pretend it was personal-"

"Ichigo!"

"- And then you end up feeling like it happened for a reason when really it was just chance!”

“It’s a fae-house!” he insisted.

“Renji, this is not the time,” Ichigo snapped, pulling them along towards the light at the edge of the trees. There was a hut there, just outside the trees, with a flickering candle in the window.

“Fine, okay,” Renji agreed. “Let’s just do it, I don’t wanna’ fight right now!”

He followed behind as Ichigo ran up to the door, knocked on it, and burst it open. “Old man!” he shouted as Renji came up just at his shoulder and looked in.

“He’s not old,” Renji said out of the side of his mouth.

“We need help,” Ichigo practically demanded.

“I don’t help people,” said the guy, playing cards with… a black cat?

Renji was crestfallen at his refusal, and glanced behind him frantically to see if their pursuers had caught up and seen them. If those guys found them, they’d take Rukia away!  “What do you mean, you’re the miracle man!”

“No such person,” the man denied, mouth hidden behind his cards.

“Who are you then?” Ichigo demanded.

“Urahara Kisuke? Deposed king of the Fugai and man of science who places absolutely no stock in miracles?” At this, Ichigo’s face drew in a harsh deadpan grimace.

“But the sign!” Renji protested.

Ichigo gritted his teeth. “Renji, can I talk to you outside?”

“Please,” Renji begged, ignoring him. “We need a miracle cure. They’re after us, and- and she’s going to die if you don’t!” When this still didn’t draw a reaction, at last he promised, “We’ll do anything!”

“Whoa, no we won’t-” Ichigo refused, but that had already drawn the man’s attention.

“Anything?”

“Yes!”

“Renji, what the fuck?!” Ichigo barked, but Renji had already stepped forward and lain Rukia down where the man showed him.

When Urahara examined her a bit, taking her face in one hand and turning it from side to side in grim curiosity, Ichigo grabbed Renji by the arm and hauled him towards the door, stepping just outside and frequently glancing back towards Rukia.

Hissing soto voce, Ichigo scolded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Renji complained, rubbing his arm where Ichigo had grabbed him.

“This is a fucking scam,” Ichigo whispered harshly, “We’re wasting our time.”

Renji was getting upset by this point, and snapped back, “What if he can help her?”

“What if he can’t and she fucking _dies_ because we stopped here when we could’ve gotten a fucking _doctor.”_

“Didn’t you say you’d do anything to save her?” Renji accused defensively. Ichigo’s jaw shut with a click and they glared at each other hard. “Stop being such a jackass then and have some faith.”

“Faith means nothing. It’ll either work or it won’t. _Believing_ really hard won’t change the outcome – and don’t call me a jackass!” Ichigo grit out.

“Three days,” Urahara called from in the hut, at which they both turned and looked as he stepped back from Rukia’s side and began to rifle in a cupboard.

“Three days what,” Ichigo muttered with his eyes narrowed. Renji elbowed him, glaring, and Ichigo viciously stomped on his foot in retaliation.

“Three day cure.”

“We don’t have three days!” he burst, growing red in the face.

“I’ll give her the pill now, and in three days, she’ll be cured,” Urahara told him, not reacting to his temper other than opening a fan in front of his face. He held a hand out then. “And how will you pay?”

Ichigo was silent in fury, probably barely restrained from shouting obscenities. Dismayed, Renji anxiously said, “I don’t have any money.”

“No freebies. What, can you work?” Urahara wondered, raising a brow. “What do you know how to do?”

“Manual labor.” Renji listed off, “Like uhh, chores, landscaping… tend horses?”  
  


       Urahara smiled then, widely, with his teeth, quickly snapping his fan open. “Wonderful.”  
  


“No!” Ichigo shouted stubbornly. “No way.” Renji frowned incredulously, and Ichigo insisted, right in front of Urahara, “I don’t trust this guy! Don’t do it!” He grabbed Renji’s shirt and yanked on it a bit when Renji wouldn’t look at him. _“Don't do it.”_

“Hey, stop it!” Renji yanked himself away, scowling. “You’re the one who told me you were going to risk everything for your friends! That you should be brave and be a good person, because that’s what’s right! You swore you’d save her! - and that you don’t care what happens to you or how scary things get! That’s what you taught me! You don’t get to tell me that I can’t do the same thing as you!”

“...” Ichigo stared at him for a second and then hollered, “You complete jackass! I didn’t mean you should fuck up your life for something stupid! Being brave for the wrong reason is just called being a fool!”

Renji took a breath, “You-!”

“My my, what a lover’s quarrel,” Urahara noted, at which Renji went speechless and stupid, turning red as a tomato, and Ichigo just made a face like he didn’t know what was going on. “I suppose I do have a few hundred potatoes to peel? Shall I make the miracle pill or not?”

They stood there quietly for a while, glancing at each other a couple times to see if the other was going to say something, and finally said together:  ‘Fine.’   ‘Yes!’

Renji quickly realized that Urahara was kind of a prankster who enjoyed inconveniencing others for the purpose of entertainment, because as he and Ichigo sat next to the potato bin and chopped the vegetables, throwing the peels in a pile – Renji stuffed his in his mouth, dirty as they were – he could see that no matter how much progress they made on the pile, when they looked away, new potatoes would be there when they looked back.

When Renji pointed this out, Ichigo refused to acknowledge the obvious. “You’re bonkers. You’ve been wandering around in the woods like a maniac for who knows how long and you’ve probably eaten mushrooms and drank your own pee by this point – I’m insane, you’re insane; that’s enough to write off whatever happens from here on.”

“Ichigo,” Renji groaned, throwing his head back on his shoulders.

“What.”

“Just because you don’t want to admit you’re wrong, you’ll- you’ll-” He shook his head. “You won’t even entertain the idea for a _second_ that there might be something, something- I dunno’,” Renji mumbled when Ichigo raised an eyebrow like he was a complete fool. “I mean, since we’ve met, every time I try to talk about what I think, you just shut me down!”

“I’m allowed to say what I think too.”

“You don’t have to be _mean_ about it though.”

“Oh, did I hurt your _feelings?_ I don’t fucking care. Why should I have to pretend that believing in fucking fairies and witches and magical guys living in the sky watching all of us and giving us magical powers _isn’t_ insane? – Oh, yeah, I’m so sorry, _I’m_ the insane one!”

“I just don’t get why you always say to look at things as they are, but now you’re pretending not to see something I _know_ you’re seeing too.” Renji raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you don’t _know_ there’s the same amount of potatoes in this box as when we started.” Ichigo put his nose in the air. “... Why do I feel like this is getting personal?”

“You’re the one making it personal.”

Shoulders slumping when he saw Ichigo looking over at Rukia, lying there in the corner, Renji tried comforting, “Ichigo, try an' believe that things’ll be okay.”

“I’d rather actually do something instead of sitting around _hoping.”_

Scrunching his brows, Renji insisted earnestly, “But a person just can’t _live_ without hope!”

“Dude, get outta’ my face!” he snapped, losing patience.

“Ichigo, just stop denying it already! I mean, look at this! It’s the same butt-shaped potato from like twenty minutes ago.” Renji held it up and looked at it, scowling.

“Maybe there was two.”

 _“ Ichigo._ I peeled this already!” Renji dodged as Ichigo puffed his cheeks up in rage and then viciously whipped a potato at him. “I’m not trying to fight you, geez!”

“Is that fighting I hear? No fighting in the house,” Urahara singsonged, sitting not four feet away at the table, reading a large old book, gathering ingredients, and petting his cat.

“You’ve been here this whole time. Don’t act like you didn’t hear us,” Ichigo said bluntly, glaring, at which Renji kicked him in the foot and made a ‘shh’ motion. “Don’t shush me!”

“Ichigo, bring it down already,” Renji complained. Ichigo scrubbed at his hair and huffed.

“I’m just antsy. We’re just sitting here wasting time. God damnit, look at her!” he shouted, throwing an arm over to where Rukia lay unmoved. “Is he gonna’ do anything?!” he hollered.

“Shh, he’s making it right now,” Renji hushed, glancing nervously at Urahara, who had gone back to ignoring them.

Or not.

Urahara shut the book with a dusty _clap,_ and then smiled, laying out his tools, at which point Ichigo and Renji abandoned their potato peelers, both of them leaning upwards to try and peek over the edge of the table and watch.

For the next hour or so, the two of them sat around on the floor, Renji calming down in relief, Ichigo tense and jittering with a sour look on his face, arms crossed. The two of them watched, Renji in curiosity, Ichigo with skepticism, as Urahara carefully mixed up a pellet and coated it with…

“Seriously?” Ichigo wondered incredulously, frustrated, _“Chocolate?”_ He threw a hand up and let it fall, looking at Renji and telling him in a deadpan, “Chocolate,” as if this was his fault.

“Can’t have her spitting it right back out.”

As scowly and negative as Ichigo was being, the both of them crowded around her when Urahara at last squeezed her cheeks open and prodded the pill in with two fingers, into her mouth and down her throat.

They looked at her for a few seconds, Renji holding his breath tight. Ichigo at last said flatly, “Nothing happened.”

“Shh!” Renji protested, “Give it a second!” Ichigo just groaned, and the two of them watched closely for many hours, even despite Urahara reminding them it would be three days.

It took time, and many many potatoes for the pill to work. Around day two, Rukia ceased her motionless, cold, grey-faced silence, and broke out in a fever. By day three, she was still very sick, but she did not die, even beginning to improve marginally.

“I thought she wouldn’t make it,” Ichigo whispered in relief, sitting at her side, watching as her chest rose and fell shakily, her forehead beading with sweat. Renji squatted by her little feet. “She’s coming out of it. She pulled through.”

“So what are you going to do with all those potatoes?” Renji asked when they made to leave, standing still so Ichigo could tie Rukia onto his back in a sling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Renji sighed and rubbed his face. Ichigo groaned. “Ugh, let’s _go_ already!”

“Wait a moment, young man,” Urahara stopped them. “Some advice.” Renji watched as Ichigo swelled with barely restrained frustration. “Now that I’ve cured your friend, I want to help you too.”

“You haven’t cured her. She’s still sick,” Ichigo grit out.

“She won’t die, but she won’t wake either unless her curse is broken,” Urahara said. “Besides the point. I’m talking about you.”

Opening his fan up, he told Ichigo, “I can see you're a man not easily fooled, and I admire your reasoned thinking - truly a fellow scientist. Following one's heart without science leaves one blind to the truth." He grinned then. "But science without heart is also prone to fatal mistakes."

"What are you saying?" Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"In simple terms, you ought to eat something sweet soon. It might help your case of chronic sour puss.”

“Oh-hohhh!” Renji laughed, at which Ichigo tensed his jaw and stormed off.  
  


     Having shaken the men hunting them down for the time being, the two of them disappeared into the woods again, and, since they didn’t know which way to go, they walked for some ways, Renji with Rukia on his back, Ichigo leading, over narrow streams and into a towering forest of bamboo, the trunks rattling around them.

When they stopped to take a rest, Renji turned the sling around and sat with Rukia resting on his crossed legs. He was getting used to her weight on him; it was comforting almost. He hoped that, if the curse were to take her, that she would wake up before that horrible time, even if only for a few moments.

“Okay,” Ichigo said, standing up. “Let’s go.” Renji got up too after a moment.

Just as Ichigo walked off, Renji glanced to the side at a small clearing a few feet away. “Why is there a peach on that bamboo stalk?”

“What?”

Ichigo turned around to look; there was a peach on a bamboo stalk.

They looked at each other and frowned, then got close around it and stared at it together, tilting their heads in confusion.

Ichigo reached out to touch it after a second. “Hey,” Renji hissed, grabbing his arm. “Don’t. Get away from that.”

“Shh,” Ichigo whispered, touching it with one finger, then his whole hand. “Huh,” he hummed. “It _is_ a peach.”

“Are you gonna’ eat it? What are you gonna’ do?” Renji backed up and watched from between some other bamboo. Ichigo crouched in the clearing, eyeing the fruit all over, the sun coming down above him onto the grass and through his hair, bright and brilliant. Renji went quiet, watching as Ichigo suddenly stood up, took the peach, and stuffed it into his mouth.

He held it in his teeth while he cracked open the bamboo, digging his fingers into it and wedging it open with his foot, peeling it, splitting it, until to Renji’s amazement, he grabbed onto the hilt of a massive sword, sliding it out of the ground.

“Peach boy,” Renji whispered softly.

 

. . .

  


He wasn’t strong enough.

In the end, all of it had been for nothing. All his fierce bravery, his determination, his care for her and his refusal to give up, all of it worthless.

By the time they saw the sun of the next dawn, Lord Kuchiki’s men were upon them. Carrying Rukia between them, they could not outrun them, nor hide well enough to escape the dogs.

And so, Ichigo fought.

The blade had sung in his hands, viciously beautiful, and powerful too, and it hearkens back to those days of his childhood, the white boy in the woods leading him to the riverside, the special strange whisper he’d felt inside. The remembrance of it filled him with rage, and as hard as he fought, he grew angrier and angrier, and at last, the blade broke.  
  


    It broke, and a voice came in his ear, ‘None had strength without believing in themselves. None saw victory without a dream for a brighter day.’

 _‘I did believe in myself. That’s all I have to believe in. I gave my best,’_ Ichigo thought bitterly. _‘That’s all I can say for it. I tried my hardest, and my hardest wasn’t good enough,’_

‘In you, I see neither faith nor hope, and there is no life where there is no hope.’

_'I don't believe in that stuff anymore.'_

'Even nonbelievers need hope to live.'

 _‘What do you know anyways. It’s your fault she’s dead,’_ he raged, gritting his teeth.  
  


The emptiness and sadness of that time in the pouring rain flooded out of him, and Rukia was taken away from them.

He’d failed. He hadn’t been strong enough. Rukia was taken away. He and Renji were bound up and brought along, jabbed in the backs when they didn’t walk fast enough.

They were going to place her in the river. When they arrived, it was the same place, this was the spot where he’d lost her.

An offering to the great river spirit, which would devour her when she was placed inside. Ichigo felt frantic as they carried her on a plank to the edge and began reading a few words to those gathered. Renji wept openly and howled, “please, take me, take me instead! Let her live!”  
  


‘You’ve known all these years that I’ve been here, whether you acknowledge me or not, King.’

_‘I can’t reconcile it. I can’t forgive you.’_

‘You don’t have to. But if you’re gonna’ let her die because you’re too stubborn to abandon your principles, then you ain’t no better than a man killing for false beliefs.’  
  


Rukia was placed in the water, sinking rapidly below the surface like a stone, and Ichigo’s eyes widened, shining gold, and he yelled in rage, body contorting. He changed, growing in size, snapping his bonds, and all at once, the waters swallowed him.

 

. . .  
  


 

_Long ago, there lived a very poor family. Every day, the little son would go out into the countryside to cut grass to sell. For some time, he and his family managed to survive off this pittance._

_One day, on the edges of the enchanted forest, the boy saw another little boy, just his size, snow white from head to toe. The two of them played together for many hours, and at last, they fell asleep together in a field. When the boy woke up, he was alone, and was lying next to a patch of the lushest, brightest green grass he’d ever seen. Amazed by his luck, he quickly cut the whole patch and sold it in the village for more money than he had ever made before._

_For many days, he passed his time the same way, playing with the little boy who lived in the woods and cutting the grass that grew back as lush and green as the night before as though by magic._

_Once, the boy felt lazy and tired and thought of how far it was to walk all the way to the forest for that grass. Thinking he would dig up the magic grass by the roots and plant it next to his family’s house, he went out to do just that. However, when he got there, digging carefully with a stick around his magic grass patch, he found, buried in the dirt, a little white bead. He’d never seen anything so beautiful and fine. Holding it gently in his palm, he watched the lovely pearl gleam in the sun. Then he put it in his pocket and finished digging up the grass. His friend didn’t come out of the woods that day._

_When he showed his mother the pearl, she gushed at how beautiful it was, and the little boy beamed in pride as the whole family marveled at it. Instead of sending him to sell it, as the boy had thought would happen, his mother decided that they should keep the bead for a while, so they could enjoy having something so beautiful in the house. His mother stowed the pearl in the rice jar, and he went out to plant his grass._

_However, when he woke the next morning and checked his grass patch excitedly, he saw that it was withered and brown. In his laziness, he’d been so foolish, and had killed that wonderful grass. Remembering the pearl, he trotted over to the rice jar to check on it. Amazed, the jar, having been almost empty the night before, was full to the brim with rice, and the lovely pearl sat on top, gleaming away happily. “Mommy, come quick!” he called her._

_That night, their family ate a big meal, and their bellies were full. They put the pearl back as it was, and in the morning, to their great joy, the jar was full once more. “This is a magical pearl,” his mother said, at which the little boy’s eyes went big and wide with wonderment. “We must care well for our treasure.”_

_That night, she put the pearl in the family money box. In the morning, the box overflowed with coins._

_The poor family no longer had any worries. When they were hungry, they were fed. When they needed new clothes, they could make purchase. Their neighbors grew aware of their change in fortunes, but no one minded, due to the family's generosity._

_However, their happiness did not last long. Greedy selfish men grew suspicious of their good luck, and one day when the little boy’s father was out, they came to the house and bullied his mother to share the secret to her prosperity._

_The little boy crowded behind his mother’s legs, glaring and sulking as they were mean to his poor sweet mother. At last she relented and took the pearl from its safe place, showing it to them._

_The men crowded close, but before they could grab it, the little boy snatched it up and, in his panic, shoved it into his mouth. “Give it to us!” cried the men, grabbing him roughly and shaking him. They shook him so hard and scared him so badly that the little boy swallowed the pearl._

_“Oh,” he cried, holding his stomach. “Oh Mommy, my tummy hurts! I’m so thirsty I think I will die!”_

_She tried to offer him glasses of water, of tea, but soon there was nothing left. The little boy ran outside into the rain and mud, looking about frantically for a puddle, for anything-_

_That was when he saw the boy again, white as snow, standing across the rice paddy from him, staring. He picked his head up in curiosity, since he had not seen his friend in many weeks. When he suddenly turned and walked off into the gloom, obscured by the heavy rainfall, the little boy followed after him, calling for him to wait, and in turn ignored the shouts of the men for him to come back, and the cries of his mother, also following._

_Looking around in the mire, the little boy at last found, after running through the muck for what felt like ages, soaked to the bone, that he’d come to the bank of the river._

_Now seeing his friend, the little boy held his stomach and moaned; it burned, it burned. He drank from the river and the rain poured and poured. When he looked up, there was the snow-white boy, standing out in the water. He splashed towards him, holding a hand out. “Zan-”_

_He was yanked out of the water by a grab to his arm, then lifted into the air by an angry man, who raised his hand to beat him, but when he brought his arm down, his hand was not empty. There was a dagger thrust straight towards his gut, to retrieve the pearl.  
_

_A loud crack of thunder, roaring wind, flashing lightning, rain drumming down all around him as he knelt in the mud, his mother strewn across his lap._

_When he woke, he held her and held her and it rained and rained and he cried and cried, but she did not come back._   
  


_There is no such thing as magic._


	21. Chapter 21

_When the prince took the horse into the woods and groomed it, it glittered like gold. Afterwards, when he mounted it and lead it along, it ran almost faster than he could hold onto it, and he was at the dragon’s palace very quickly._

_As soon as he had entered the courtyard, he told his lady love to get ready to escape. She was not long in preparing, and they both mounted the horse and off they ran. They had not long started in escaping when the dragon returned and looked around, seeing that his princess was gone._

 

…

  


Houzukimaru, the great dragon, left in pursuit of them almost immediately. However, they somehow managed to stay ahead of him. When Ikkaku saw that they were being followed, he was worried, and urged the horse to go faster, but Yumichika just hummed a laugh.

“Never fear,” he said, holding onto Ikkaku’s back. “There’s no need to hurry.”

“Don’t underestimate an enemy, Yumi,” Ikkaku warned.

They ran and ran for about an hour. Their very bones ached from riding at such a speed for so long, and the horse seemed to be finally tiring, but Houzukimaru was not.

Eventually he headed them off, landing in the path ahead of them and whipping around, viciously snapping, and as the horse reared up, eyes rolling, Ikkaku saw that there was no other way but to fight. He watched as the great scaly dragon transformed into a man, massive and muscled and _furious._

They got down off the horse, which immediately bolted in terror, and Ikkaku held the naginata at the ready. He tried to keep Yumichika behind him, not necessarily to keep him from harm, because he didn’t think Houzukimaru would hurt him, but he did think he would try to snatch him away again.

Ikkaku knew how to fight probably better than he knew how to do anything else, and with a weapon in his hand, he fought. Yumichika gasped in wonder at the sight of the spear extending and glowing. Houzukimaru was enraged at the sight of it.

 _“Thief!”_ he boomed, the dragon marking across his chest glowing red just along the tail portion, slowly lighting up.

As they fought, the more damage Ikkaku took, the more hopeless it became, the more determined he grew, his fighting spirit growing and growing, as the coils of the dragon tattoo filled up red. However, Houzukimaru’s strength just remained miles and miles ahead of his. Even with a magical spear that he was sure of the true owner now, he had no chance.

His parents didn’t raise a quitter though, and neither of them would back down.

By the time the dragon tattoo was lit up and glowing completely red, Ikkaku knew he was dying – not of blood loss, but of sheer exhaustion. Houzukimaru was growing more and more displeased as Ikkaku grew more ragged.

“Value your life,” he said, swiping for him where he stood heaving, bloody and pathetic. “Don’t fight for something so foolish as love. It ebbs and it fades as surely as you will die.” Pumped up, his heart pounding a million miles a minute and blocking out the pain, Ikkaku ignored him, pushing his muscles to the limit as he whipped and slashed at Houzukimaru’s great hands and arms as they came at him. “Why waste your life fighting when you're not fighting to survive? Why fight for something you can’t hold onto?”

“You’re right, my life’s all I have,” Ikkaku rasped, “but what is my life without Yumichika?!” He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and grit his teeth, red and bloody. “If you take him away from me, what kind of life will I live then? I _am_ fighting for survival, so just shut up unless it’s to cry mercy!”

Houzukimaru grew fed up with his undeserved arrogance, gritting his teeth and going to make a killing blow, but Ikkaku viciously slashed the naginata and roared, and it broke into three at his command, at last spilling blood, finally cutting flesh.

“Please, please stop!” Yumichika cried, watching from the side of the path in the safety of the trees. “I don’t know what to do! I- I don’t-!” Looking between them in anguish, he began to clutch his chest and moan, and as they both stopped fighting to look at him, Ikkaku with his blade buried in the meat of Houzukimaru’s shoulder, Houzukimaru with both hands around Ikkaku’s middle, ready to rend him in two.

Ikkaku went silent and still in horror, watching as with a gasp and a scream, Yumichika crumpled, every inch of him glowing and aching, and suddenly, he was split in two from despair.

“Yumichika!”

He watched as Yumichika fell to the ground in a heap, and another man slipped out of him with a winking eye, fluid and mysterious, someone he’s sure he’s seen before, a long time ago. He was the one he’d seen before with the haori and the large silver pearl, sitting atop the dragon’s back in his parent’s garden.

The two of them ceased fighting. Ikkaku looked on with an open mouth as the dazzlingly beautiful and inhuman creature seemed to float over to the dragon man, who released him before crushing his spine. He gazed up in wonder at the fae, a full head taller than him and gorgeous to the point that it was paralyzing.

Ikkaku nearly stumbled as the beauty ran a silky finger ran sensuously beneath his chin on his way past. He shuddered, blinking, mouth hanging open, and all the pains of his battle seemed to ebb away, this warm drunk feeling in his stomach as he watched him go.

Yumichika, having been lying on the ground, panting and shaking, at last got up, drawing his attention. He stood up on trembling legs and looked down at himself, his arms, his hands, as if he’d never seen his own body before. “I’m separate,” he whispered, his face suddenly breaking into a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Master!” he cried in joy.

Ruri’iro smiled fondly.

Houzukimaru stood there, panting and bleeding, and waited as Ruri’iro walked towards him. The beast sunk into a kneel when he approached, and Ruri’iro hugged his great face to his middle. “Forgive me my weakness,” they whispered to each other.

Yumichika leapt into Ikkaku’s arms, and Ikkaku spun him, pulling him into a kiss and humming onto his mouth. “Ikkaku, I love you,” Yumichika told him with a sort of relieved sigh, beaming with happiness.

“None better than I?”

“None in all the world,” he sighed.

With a triumphant laugh, Ikkaku dropped them into the grass, rolling him around wildly and kissing him.

Ruri’iro and Houzukimaru watched the two mortals, who’d quickly forgotten their presence, lost in each other, the wounds and pains fading out of existence and leaving behind only love.

“He can use your naginata?” Ruri’iro raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “I sense some favoritism, Houzukimaru.”

“. . .” Cheek digging into Ruri’iro’s side, Houzukimaru merely glanced up at him, lip sticking out.

“For shame, and you say I’m the one fond of mortals,” Ruri’iro scolded, then sighed and noted rather sadly, “He grew too much like you.”

“...”

Eyes softening, Ruri’iro said gently, “But still shadowed to insignificance in my eyes when I compare you both.” Houzukimaru met his gaze silently as Ruri’iro put a hand to his cheek. “I love thee. Better than any in all the world, I love thee true,” he whispered. “In the limitless cosmos, in every drop of rain and every grain of sand, in every mortal soul, I am always yours.”

A big dark hand enclosed around a slim one.

Smiling at the two kids embracing each other in happiness, the two of them disappeared together into the Junrinan.


	22. Chapter 22

_On the mountain, there lay a stone statue, upon which rested a white-furred snow monkey. It opened its eye as it heard the cries of his child, out in the world, suffering._

_“Our child weeps. Go down to the river,” it said to a small snake resting on the ancient stone, and down it slithered to find their little boy._

 

…

  


He’d just disappeared. Ichigo had turned into a dragon – this great blue and grey scaled thing - and thrown himself into the water, and then disappeared.

Having lost the strength to stand, the guard that had held his arm released him and let him fall to his knees in shock. They were gone. Rukia, Ichigo – they were gone. Everthing he loved in all the world, swallowed up and lost in an instant.

Renji looked at the surface of the river frantically, its wildly tossing waters, and then jolted suddenly at a slimy cold sensation against his bare ankle. Looking down, he startled at the sight of a snake slithering up his leg.

As he watched, it opened its mouth, revealing a cluster of pearls. Renji stared for a few moments, then reached forward tentatively, hesitant, until he touched just between its tiny, needle-like fangs and retrieved the pearls.

He stared at them in his palm for no more than a moment before impulsively stuffing them into his mouth, swallowing, and then holding his throat in panic. Stumbling to his feet, he gasped for air, but could not breathe.

As if the lights had turned off around him, the world went dark but for the water in front of him. Beneath the surface of the river, deep in the water, there came a bright glow, and before he knew what he was doing, he jumped inside, immediately encased on all sides in the coolness, his hair and clothes moving around him sluggishly. The sensation of gasping went away and the pain in his lungs eased.

It was there before him in the darkness, illuminated by the blue glow: the thrashing monster, and Rukia, hovering there in the water.

 _‘Ichigo! Rukia!’_ Renji burst into movement, swimming with all his might for the low bank of the river, hands scrabbling for a pointy rock, anything sharp. By this time, the beast had spotted him and swam towards him like a rocket, long body trailing out behind it as its jaws opened.

Renji threw himself down in the mud and when the beast came at him, in a vicious pulse of adrenaline, he stabbed it in the side, cutting its belly, and immediately, the water clouded dark with blood.

It reared back in pain, swimming away, and Renji was smacked hard by the wild thrashings of its thick trunk of a body, stunned for a moment. When he could, he swam towards them in determination, into the opaque cloud of blood hanging there in the water, and threw both arms around the thrashing undulating trunk of the dragon’s body, seizing it and holding tight. No matter how the beast clawed at him and threw its weight around, Renji clung on in a lover’s embrace, refusing to let go.

His throat began to tighten once more, bubbles forming and escaping his nose, and finally, as he felt that he might drown, that his arms might give out, the thrashing slowed, and as he squeezed a bit tighter against a warm softness, it was only Ichigo there in his arms, limp and deadened.

The bright glow from before had died down, softly pulsing, just barely there, within Ichigo’s chest. Rukia too, floated there as if dead, head bobbing forward onto her chest.

Renji watched, stock still, as the light moved within Ichigo’s chest, up into his neck, and to his amazement, a glowing bead, a pearl passed out of Ichigo’s lips and through the water, towards Rukia’s face. When it passed into her mouth, the light went out and the waters settled, the violent currents dying down.

He couldn’t hold his breath anymore, and in a desperate effort, he clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, as if to withhold the urge to gasp out for air – knowing he’d only drown faster if he inhaled a mouthful of water.

His heart gave a wild jolt of surprise and happiness as he saw Rukia open her eyes and lift her head. She immediately coughed out a burst of bubbles and frantically grabbed at her throat, inhaling water, and then broke for the surface in panic, kicking wildly.

Renji yanked Ichigo under the arms, dragging his dead weight to the surface, and the three of them all got out onto the shore, coughing and puking water. Renji dragged Ichigo’s head out of the water and collapsed on his front in the sand, throwing up, water coming out his nose and up his throat. Rukia spluttered and gasped next to him, and all at once, Ichigo gasped too, sitting up and spitting out a mouthful of water, devolving into chest-rattling coughs.

Exhausted, Renji rolled himself onto his back and heaved for air, staring at the sky, his face and chest covered in sand. Ichigo flopped onto his back next to him with a wet smack.

“Still a skeptic?” Renji asked, his throat raspy, mud streaking his face.

“Okay,” Ichigo gasped, chest rising and falling heavily, his clothes and hair plastered to his body. “... Okay, maybe you’re right.”

“What was that?” Renji rubbed in a little. “You _were_ born on the mountain? Oh, the curse was real and you’re actually a river guardian?”

“No. At least-” Ichigo went silent, looking at the sky with a far-away look. “If I was, I’m not anymore.”

Renji’s smugness faded a little bit, and he panted a bit, thinking. He’d seen whatever it was, the cursed item or Ichigo’s power or whatever it was- he’d seen it come out of him and into Rukia.

Her curse was broken.

 

. . .

 

_The prince and his princess passed together back through the Azure Kingdom, all the way back to the prince’s homeland. There they arrived safe and sound in the empire of the Kempachi, and they reigned honourably as long as they lived._

 

_Well… not exactly._

 

_. . ._

  


Ikkaku led them home, having found their horse, who’d turned up eating grass in a field not far off. He let Yumichika ride, since he was barefoot, and walked next to him, reaching his arm up to hold his hand.

In high spirits, considering he had his husband back and was at last going home – how he’s _missed_ home! – Ikkaku felt quite talkative. “So, Yumichika?” he wondered.

“Yes?”

“I have some questions.” Many many questions.

“... Alright,” Yumichika agreed hesitantly.

“Were you being held prisoner?” Ikkaku asked, looking up to him with a frown. “Or… or possessed or something?”

“No,” Yumichika said solemnly. “I’ve lived in Master Ruri’iro’s heart since the moment he saw you.”

“In the garden?” he assumed.

“When you were born.”

“Whoa,” Ikkaku muttered. “And he set you free?”

“He separated us, so I could live on my own, without him,” Yumichika explained.

“He gave you a mortal soul?”

“Yes.” Yumichika nodded. “And now I can live with you to the end of my days.” Ikkaku smiled. Yumichika fidgeted a bit, lowering his eyes. “... You’re not angry?”

“What do I have to be angry about, I have everything I’ve ever wanted!” Ikkaku said sincerely, flabbergasted. Yumichika looked away.

“But I’ve been dishonest with you.”

“Well sure I was surprised when you kind of, like, split apart, but there’s no harm done,” he comforted, rubbing his thumb on Yumichika’s knuckles. “Actually,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, “I have to say sorry too…”

“What for?”

“Uhhh, I sort of opened up the cellar when you told me not to. I mean, I’m sure you know, but…” Wow, he felt really dumb about it now, looking away in embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he summed up.

“It’s all over with now anyways.”

Ikkaku nodded, still feeling a little foolish, but eventually hummed in curiosity, “What was that silver ball he had, I’m curious.”

“Oh,” Yumichika noted, perking up. “That’s not actually mi- _his.”_ He shook his head, frowning a little. “That’s the prized possession of the Dragon Emperor, Ryuumon Houzukimaru.”

“Oh yeah?” Ikkaku muttered, grimacing a little. That Houzukimaru was a total ass. He couldn’t believe his parents had given him to that guy. At least he’d let them go in the end, but that was only because that beautiful Ruri’iro guy had shown up.

“Yes,” Yumichika explained. “Earth dragons are treasure-keepers, and they have these enormous pearls that they prize beyond all else. I- we-” Yumichika huffed. _“ Master_ would use it to see things. It’s a hidden treasure of wisdom.”

“He gave his favorite treasure to Ruri’iro?”

“Yes.” Ikkaku looked up into Yumichika’s lovely face, and thought that maybe he and Houzukimaru were a little alike after all.

After many weeks traveling together, their own little adventure finding towns to stay in to eat and rest and long hours riding through the countryside, they came at last to the North. The brigands were much ajoyed to see their prince home, and Ikkaku proudly introduced his husband, Prince Consort Yumichika. Rough and unmannered as they were, his friends knew well enough to bow.

Despite knowing that the mountain people all meant well, Ikkaku noted the many sparkling eyes on his husband, and kept Yumichika close as they all celebrated into the night around the fire.

It was then that he was told that the war raged on even now.

“Invaders from the North Sea, M’lord,” one man told him over his mead.

“Again at this time of year?” Ikkaku muttered, brow furrowed. He would have thought that his father would have been able to easily direct forces against the raiders as usual, even without him.

“It’s a sad and troubling time, M’lord. The Kempachi was allied with the Fugaijin against the invaders, but Kurotsuchi, that dastardly man, betrayed us all.”

“Those fucking traitors!”

“Sneaky bastards!”

King Kurotsuchi had betrayed his father? Ikkaku felt a bit sick, knowing this was almost certainly his fault. Could this be because he hadn’t stayed and married the king’s daughter? Ikkaku held out a hand for silence, asking very seriously, “In what way?”

“He’s turned on the Kempachi. He tried to take the tree, you see?”

Yumichika put a hand to his mouth next to him. Ikkaku grit his teeth. “The tree?”

“My prince, he wants it. He got his hand on a golden apple,” the man explained, and Ikkaku’s blood froze. “He was trying to create a spell with it, but the one thing he cannot recreate with science was something to infinitely stop death. He needs the whole tree.”

“My mother,” Ikkaku muttered, rubbing his forehead. “Shit.”

“I dunno’ how he thinks he can beat us on our own land.”

That apple… Nemu smiling at him after many months of gloomy complacence… Her father had told her to do that, hadn’t he. He’d told her to ask for that apple, and in his sorrow over having lost Yumichika, he’d foolishly done so. Ikkaku’s stomach clenched just thinking about it. She’d manipulated him so easily.

“We have to go,” Ikkaku said, thinking hard. “Yumichika, we’ve got to get back.”

If they hurried, they might arrive in time to hold back the flow of the loss. Ikkaku couldn’t remove the pit of dread from his stomach though – a golden apple was in the hands of Kurotsuchi.

 

   He’s made a terrible mistake.


	23. Chapter 23

_Once there was a little boy whose family had far too much money. His father and mother, the lord and lady, were kind to him, but paid him little attention. He lost them young to a plague, became lord, and grew up surrounded by extended family members and endless wealth._

_A rebellious boy with a fiery temper, one day, he escaped his attendants and ran into the woods and hid for hours until he fell asleep. He woke up when they’d stopped searching, and walked along, not knowing he’d come into the magical forest._

_What should he see but a ring of mushrooms, and inside it, dancing lights. Enchanted, he stepped forward, putting his toe inside the fairy circle, and was welcomed in, and he lost track of time as he played with the fairies, eating the sweetest fruits and listening to the loveliest songs. Never had he felt such happiness._

_When at last he went home, he felt lifeless and lonely to go back to the fairies in the woods, and no matter what his caretakers did, how many of his favorite meals they prepared and tempted him with, they could not coax him to eat a single bite of food. All of it was like ash in his mouth._

_The young lord soon grew very sick and weak. One night, a beautiful fairy girl, the one he’d danced with that night, came to his bedroom and sat at the side of his bed. For many nights she came to him, lay with him, stroked his forehead._

_At last, when the family was in mourning that their lord would surely die, she came to him at night one more time, and he was cured. She fed him the food of the fairies and sealed his cold lips with a kiss, and the color came back into his cheeks, the light back into his eyes._

_He took her away with him to be his bride and loved her with a gentleness and compassion beyond compare. Surrounded by wealth since birth, having her as his wife, it was the first time he had loved a living thing so very much._

_He loved her so, that in his selfishness, he begged her not to go back to the magical forest, fearing that she would leave him forever._

_And in a cruel irony, he was then the one to sit at her bedside and lay with her and stroke her forehead, hold her hand to his chest and his cheek and hold back the urge to weep. He watched as his wife faded away from sickness over time, and at last, she died._

_The boy, then a man, was cursed with a loneliness so fierce that his heart turned to ice, and no longer did any living thing draw compassion or gentleness from within him. All he saw was the endless wealth piling up around him._  


_That is, until one day many years later, when he found a girl who looked like her._

  
         And what else could he do but take her away to be his sister and protect her in a magical tower so that she could not be stolen away from him again.  


_  
. . ._

 

 

Rukia picked herself up from the sand, hair dripping, and Renji lit up, beaming from ear to ear with excitement as her eyes met his face.  


“Renji!” she cried in joy, knowing him on first sight despite a lifetime apart - and she still loves him and he hasn't stopped loving her. He leapt for her and she opened her arms to him, shrieking in happiness. They hugged and he spun her around, and they collapsed in the sand together, laughing.

Kuchiki’s men approached then, hands on their swords and watching Ichigo carefully, as if hesitant to come any nearer in case he’d change form again. The two of them stopped laughing, holding each other tight, their warm embrace becoming a thing of desperation to not be torn apart again. Ichigo stood there with one foot back, not knowing if they were going to try to grab her away from them again, but they didn’t advance further. They were clearly afraid of him.

At last, Lord Kuchiki was there, and Renji watched as Ichigo both unconsciously straightened up and seemed to cringe back and bristle with rage. Rukia too, she got up from the ground and stood near Ichigo’s side, silent and uneasy.

Lord Kuchiki, to Renji, looked like he was part corpse. His skin was very pale, but with an undertone of grey – his eyes were cold and lifeless. He held himself tall and strong like royalty should, but there was something lacking.

“Rukia,” he said, and she stood up straight, rigidly so, but with her head down. Renji looked on from the ground, holding his breath. Lord Kuchiki’s steady voice showed a flicker of emotion then; confusion.  


“Why did you leave the tower?”  


The spell that had held them all speechless broke as Ichigo burst out in rage, “She didn’t!” Pointing an accusing finger at him, Ichigo barked, “I took her ‘cause she was gonna’ _die_ otherwise, no thanks to you! You never even fucking _checked_ on her! I bet you didn’t even fucking _know_ she was sick!”

Rukia, overcome with emotion, said tearfully, “I’ve been so lonely, Nii-sama.” Lip wobbling, she mumbled, “I couldn’t help it.”

“... And will you stay now?” Lord Kuchiki wondered almost helplessly, his composure melting away, and Ichigo went silent in surprise.

“Nii-sama,” Rukia said, her voice shaking, but she still was strong and said, “I don’t want to go back there, now that I’ve been back in the sun.”

“No,” he agreed, eyes downcast. “But will you stay in the village - at my side, with me?” Stepping forward, he halted when Ichigo threw an arm out protectively, backing Rukia away from him, a clear message to  _stay away_ from her. Rukia peeked out, wiping her eyes, wounded. 

“Dear sister,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve put you through.” She sniffed and bowed her head. “I’ve been a fool,” he said wretchedly, kneeling at her feet.

Rukia at last, wiped her tears away and enfolded him in her arms. Ichigo watched in suspicion, but didn't intervene.

She and Renji hold each other for a long time until it was time to say goodbye. She promised to come and visit him in Zaraki when the war was over, and then Renji waved to her and watched Lord Kuchiki take her hand gently and lead her away with him, to escort her back to the village.  
  
  
Somehow, in the ensuing hours, something felt different. After their panicked trek through the woods, rescuing her and trying to escape with her, now that it's done, it felt like there's nothing left to keep them together. Renji didn't know what was going to happen, but somehow he felt uneasy, as though their adventure together was over. He didn’t want it to be the end of being with Ichigo. All he wanted was to stay close to him.

The two of them sat in the woods, eating some fresh leaves and resting. Eventually Ichigo sighed and put his chin on his hand. “I have to go back home,” he muttered, taking another bite. Renji listened anxiously, fidgeting and running a finger around in the dirt. "They're probably halfway to the village by now."

"I’ve gotta’ go home too,” Renji mumbled back. “Well, to Zaraki, I mean. I have a message for the Kempachi that the prince won’t come home for the war. What are you gonna’ go do?” he wondered hesitantly.

“I mean,” Ichigo shrugged, “I’m not exiled anymore, so I guess I’ll go back to the farm.” Eyes cast away in thought, he muttered, “My sisters are there, they need me.” He shrugged again. “And Rukia will be there. Gotta' keep an eye on Kuchiki, make sure he's not mistreating her anymore. It's time to go home.”

“Oh… but… I thought…” Renji closed his mouth when Ichigo stood up with a sigh.

“I should get started, actually.” He raised a hand, grimacing. “Goodbye Renji.” And then he turned his back and started walking off. Renji scrambled to his feet in panic. “Fare thee well,” Ichigo called back.

Renji followed him for a few steps, holding his hand out. “Wait! I thought…” Ichigo paused and looked over his shoulder, but only a little bit. Somehow… he felt like Ichigo was running away from him. Summoning all his bravery, all the courage Ichigo had taught him, he said, “The whole time we've been together, I thought you felt something too.” Ichigo did meet his eye then, and helplessly, Renji wondered, “I mean, didn’t you?...”

Ichigo’s brown eyes flicked over his face for a long time, long enough that Renji knows he understands what he's saying. He took a chance, drawing in a step, and that’s when Ichigo pulled away as he's always done, shaking his head and walking off through the trees. Renji was left to stand there with his hand up, reaching for him, only to see him disappear into the woods.  


“I don’t understand…” he whispered. “Zabimaru… You said…” He frowned and looked down at his hand, but the thread was gone. Maybe it was only ever there in his imagination.

 

. . .  


When he and Yumichika returned to the castle, it was largely deserted, the men in the barracks having taken the weapons and gone off to face the war, which turned Ikkaku’s concern into full on worry. Another perturbing development was that near the beginning of the conflict, Yachiru had gone missing, and as expected, his father was beside himself over it.

“I hope you were this upset when I was away from home,” Ikkaku grumbled, at his father’s side as they rode out to the sticks where the fighting had been going on.

“You gave us some warning,” his dad grumbled. "Besides, you're grown."

“She’s grown too, she just doesn’t show it!”

“Don’t you get smart with me when in the meantime you’ve been who knows where, eloping, you fool boy!” the Kempachi shouted, at which Ikkaku shouted back that he’d do it again and he didn’t have any leeway to judge him when he’d done pretty much the same thing to find his mom, and taken like nine years longer, if he remembered.

“No respect,” the king muttered, and Ikkaku narrowed his eyes, but didn’t take back any of it.

He'd been looking forward to bringing Yumichika home and showing him to his family and his subjects - he's married, he's found a beauty that shines brighter than a star and he wants to show him off with pride. Normally Ikkaku's marriage would be cause for a month's worth of empire-wide celebration that not even a war could stop. Except this isn't the usual skirmish with the raiders come from the North Sea. They're in a landbound war with the Fugaijin and he had a lot to catch up on. He's many months late in coming home to aid his father.

Apparently, Renji had never made it back to deliver his message, and Ikkaku spared a moment of troubled thought for his friend. What has become of him?

"In any case, I did what I set out to do, and I'm home now. You're just bitching because you and Mom didn't get to host the wedding," because that's really what this is probably about at this point. "But you two can get to know Yumichika later. For now, bring me up to date."

Apparently there were a bunch of guerilla groups squatting out in the woods, which wasn’t the typical modus operandi of Zarakijin warfare, who were brave and crazy enough to charge in head on – but the Fugaijin weren’t above dirty tricks such as ambushes and other traps. Nothing if not adaptable, they were bringing the fight to Kurotsuchi and playing his game. It's not often they fight in their homeland and not on the open sea or the islands peppering the ocean just beyond Zaraki's northernmost peak.

His father immediately had a place for him, and Ikkaku was sent out to the front, meant to take over from Iba. As he directed their forces to fall out, sending Iba with them, he knew what he had to do, and separated from the group, seeking out the enemy camp.  


Coming out into an abandoned field where the dead lay baking in the sun, he saw her. Another trap? Ikkaku grit his teeth and stepped out into the open.  


“Lady Nemu,” he tried, walking towards her, wondering even now after she’d deceived him, if she could be reasoned with. He’d thought for sure she’d had a good heart, if a little gloomy. Surely she saw that this venture of her father’s was pure madness and would stop this if he only pleaded with her. She's not like Kurotsuchi. She's not a bad person, Ikkaku's sure of it. 

She didn’t say a word to him, and although her demeanor hadn’t changed from any other time they’d spent together, indifferent silence, Ikkaku saw through it now – a lifelessness in her eyes, a complete lack of any human warmth of empathy. Perhaps it had always been that way.

“Stop this.” Thinking perhaps she felt bitter and betrayed that he had spurned her so, he apologized, “I’m sorry for any embarrassment I’ve caused you. It wasn’t what I meant to happen… If I’ve hurt you…”

As he approached, at last she moved, having stood there like a wax figure thus far. She lifted a hand and told him, “Lay down your weapon and surrender.” As mean as it was, Ikkaku felt an involuntary impulse to laugh, because it seemed so ridiculous, but a second later, to his alarm, his body shook.

Eyes wide, he felt himself fall to his knees and his hands grew weak, his naginata slipping out of his grasp. “I yield,” he heard himself whisper, and broke out in a cold sweat, unable to lift a hand even to feel his mouth, which had spoken without permission.

“Very good.”

“Ikkaku!” he heard, and his heart grew heavy with dread, as the situation worsened with each passing second. No, he couldn’t be here.

“Yumichika,” he croaked. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d left him at home with his mother. Yumichika hadn’t been happy about it of course, but Ikkaku had never expected him to follow. He didn't want him to see him in this moment. He had to get back to safety.

“Go,” he grit out, feeling Yumichika’s hands on his back. Ikkaku knows what this is, and Yumichika has to get away.

“Ikkaku,” he whispered, “Ikkaku, what’s wrong? What did she do?” He looked up and glared at Nemu, whose eyes pierced into them. Ikkaku collapsed forward onto his elbows, head hanging.

“I’d forgotten,” he murmured, sweating all over and clutching a hand to his chest. Sure enough when he looked up, she was still wearing the amulet around her neck, the one he’d given to her all that time ago.  


“When I carry this, I carry your heart.”  


“What?” Yumichika breathed, eyes wide. “You... you gave…”  


“I gave that to her as an engagement present,” Ikkaku gasped, feeling the air pressing in around him, as if to suffocate and squeeze him to death. “I guess it was cursed.”  


“Incapacitated, I see, Nemu?” said King Kurotsuchi as he came out of the trees, long-nailed hands bloody and holding an apple, not quite gold – an orangey bronze.  


“Yes, my king,” she replied emotionlessly.  


Ikkaku grit his teeth and lifted his head up hatefully. Just like his father had said; untrustworthy, through and through. “Why are you doing this?!” he barked.

“Miserable foolish boy,” Kurotsuchi sniveled, at which Ikkaku bristled. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought this man could be his father in law. “It’s no wonder you would never understand.”  


“What, you're really gonna' try to get the tree? What do you want with my parents’ tree?!” Ikkaku hollered in rage, trembling with weakness. Yumichika refused to budge.  


“Immortality, you fool! What else?!” Kurotsuchi snapped. He held up the bronzed apple to admire it in the light of the sun. “Every test to recreate the sample Nemu retrieved was a miserable failure – what’s left but to push out you barbarians and take the source. All the science put forth from human advancement cannot eliminate what magic can: mortality.”

Ikkaku’s brow furrowed. He wanted the tree for immortality? That had never even crossed his mind because that's  _not how it works._  “But it doesn’t make you live forever! Whatever you think, that it’s like the Fountain of Youth or grants eternal life, you’re wrong!” he cried. “It just stops death!”

His mother has aged, hasn’t she? She’ll still grow old, her body will fade. All that’s happened is a stay on a premature end, allowed her to live out her natural life.  


“You can never get what you want!”  


“Nemu,” Kurotsuchi said, ignoring him thoroughly and holding out the bronze apple without hardly glancing at her. She took it in her hands. Ikkaku narrowed his eyes, what was he…

“Ikkaku,” Yumichika whispered, gripping his arm hard, and to Ikkaku’s horror, Nemu immediately brought the fruit to her lips and took a large bite. No… His own daughter…

For a moment she chewed and swallowed, and then, his pulse racing wildly, Ikkaku watched as her face turned completely white, and the apple fell from her hand. His heart stopped in dread as she stumbled and then slumped to the ground, lifeless.


	24. Chapter 24

_Once upon a time there was a man who was unhappy with the limits of humanity, and so, studying under the smartest man of the age, he modified his body to the point that his heart lost all semblance of empathy, morality, and compassion._

_His life’s work was to recreate all forms of magic through scientific advancement, but there was yet one thing he hadn’t discovered: eternal life._

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku was sure she was dead, she lay there so limply. Kurotsuchi didn’t spare her more than a look, kicking the rest of the apple away as easily as he had his own daughter, leaving her there on the ground. A princess, strewn out like garbage, a test lackey who'd just happened to be there at the time, so carelessly disposed.  
  


“Yet another failure.”  
  


The way he said it, as if he'd expected it all along - and even worse, the way he was clearly referring to her, not the apple. Ikkaku can't imagine his father talking to him that way, like he was a waste, like he was his worst mistake, a _disappointment._ Even when he'd run away from his responsibilities so he could find Yumichika, the Kempachi had still had love for him. There is nothing in Kurotsuchi but ugliness.

Filled with rage, Ikkaku gritted his teeth, and after the worthless King was out of sight, he crawled towards Nemu and picked her up in his arms, checking her pulse. The locket glimmered around her neck, dark and unforgiving. Yumichika knelt at his side, watching as he tried to touch the chain, take it off of her, but Ikkaku found he could not touch it, physically unable, his fingers ceasing just before brushing against it every time.

At last, Yumichika murmured, “Let me,” and unclasped it from her neck, and opened it to take the note out, at which he handed it to Ikkaku. He ripped it up and threw it away, and at once, it's as though something's unlocked in his chest, releasing his strength again. 

He carried Nemu’s limp body to his horse and together, he and Yumichika took her back to the castle.

The tree, heavily guarded, was heavy with fruit in the absence of Yumichika’s  –  Ruri’iro’s?  –  bird friends. Yumichika held an apple to Nemu’s lips, full to bursting beneath the peel and juicy.

When she revived in Ikkaku’s arms, he let go of her as she sat up, a hand to her head. The first thing she said, the color returning to her cheeks was, “I failed.” Ikkaku’s face fell, heart clenched with frustration.

 _“He’s_ the one who engineered it, he’s the one who’s failed,” Yumichika said firmly, but her non-expression didn’t change.

“Why, why did you do it?” Ikkaku demanded, angry beyond belief. “Why would you let him use you like that?! And Princess! I know I must have hurt you, but how could you betray me this way?! Betray my homeland!”

“... I thought,” she murmured. “I thought maybe finally…” She went silent then, and Yumichika gave her a pitying look. Ikkaku grit his teeth and looked off. He was gonna’ tear that man apart if his father didn’t get to it first.  
  


Speaking of the Kempachi, Ikkaku didn't realize until later that their earlier conversation was the last time he'd ever get to see him face to face. 

When Ikkaku got out towards where the majority of the fighting was going on, he thought he caught a glimpse of a small animal running through the bushes, and a few minutes later, there was a loud blast in the distance and what looked like a humongous man with red skin. 

Much much later, when the war was over and the dead were being accounted for, he heard from those on the scene that his parents had faced off against King Kurotsuchi and some monster from the pit of hell, a gigantic infant that gave birth to a twin, so disgusting and horrible that many came away with psychological scars. In grim despair, he heard that though they’d defeated it together, they’d both been lost in the end.

When he returned to the castle with those that remained, his father was gone, his mother was gone, and Yachiru disappeared into the distant trees, transforming into a small fox, or a cat, bounding away after one final look towards him. A family gone, everything he'd known for his entire life gone in a day.

After the truce, he was left to pick up the pieces. He said goodbye to Nemu. He and Prince Akon shook hands and vowed to accomplish what their fathers had not: make permanent peace between their countries. He bowed his head in sorrow and readied to assume the throne, take the crown on his head. Symbolic though it was, he hadn't expected it to be this heavy. Despite the violent nature of the Kempachi title, he'd never quite put it together that the day he became the twelfth, his parents would both be dead.

In the ensuing weeks, he fought challengers for the empty title and became Kempachi himself. He didn't feel ready, had never thought he would have to take the throne so young. He hasn't even been a man for a full year, and didn't know how to fill the void of his parents' absence, but he took great comfort and reassurance that Yumichika was at his side, to help guide him.

It took quite a bit of getting used to. His life will never go back to the way it was, free to roam and wander, free to carouse and shirk his duties if he so chose, free not to concern himself with the worries of others. Perhaps more jarring is the change in the flag he’d known all his life, now holding two stripes and a cross, rather than just one. Being Nijuudaime, the flag changed upon the passing of the throne. Another strange development was that the people he’d grown up around suddenly called him the name he’d always associated with his father. It was as if they’d forgot his given name, as if it were erased.

In the beginning, every time he heard it was a brutal reminder of the family he’d lost, and brought him pain. However, it didn't take long for him to bear the title on his shoulders proudly, the title he’d fought for – Red Eye Kempachi.  
  


At least he still had Yumichika to call him by name.

 

. . .

  


After Ichigo had left him, Renji returned to the riverside and stood there watching, an empty sadness in his heart, a feeling of being lost. He rested there on the bank for the night, and when he woke the next morning, there grew a magical lotus in the river, floating in the gentle current.

Looking at it for no more than a moment or two, Renji turned his back on it and walked off, continuing back to Zaraki through the Junrinan.  
  


When at last he dragged himself in sight of the castle, he looked up, and was home.  
  


Up to the castle gates he walked, seeing that the flag flying now showed a twelve, not an eleven, and when he came through the servant’s gates, he was tackled by a group of overjoyed little boys who hugged him until he fell to the ground and cuddled them, tossing them around affectionately.

“Has the war ended? Was I too late in coming?” Renji asked.

“He’s already come home,” one little boy chirped. “I know that he was that strong to be Kempachi! I know Prince Ikkaku could beat all those guys! Ohp-!” he covered his mouth. “I mean, Kempachi Madarame!”  
  


“What? Renji wondered, aghast.  
  


“Yeah, Zaraki Kempachi fell in the war,” an older boy said solemnly, and for a second, they all put their fists to their hearts. “The queen too. Red Eye Kempachi took the title a couple months ago.”

“Months? Wait, Red Eye,” Renji muttered. “You mean Prince Ikkaku is…”

“Madarame Kempachi.”

“Damn, he really is king now, isn’t he,” he mumbled in wonder, feeling sad when he heard that King Kenpachi had passed. He hadn’t known the queen as well, but he had fond memories of the king scolding them for roughhousing indoors and playing too noisily, but then shooting them winks or telling them where the sweets were hidden. 

When he at last was able to meet with Ikkaku, the reigning Kempachi, he was welcomed home as a dear friend. He'd apparently been just as sorely missed as Ikkaku had been to him. Even so, he hadn’t expected Ikkaku to be quite so happy to see him, and oddly, the young king's spirits seemed to inexplicably lift each time Renji slipped up and called him Prince Ikkaku instead of Red Eye Kempachi.

He was asked to stay, and for a time, he did, working as Ikkaku’s personal attendant and closest friend – barring Yumichika of course – but at last, Renji began to have trouble sleeping, haunted by dreams and a yearning within.  
  


At last, he could not overcome his heart, and said goodbye to his friends, setting out on a journey.  
  


He went back on foot, and every day he woke up in the woods, he found the flower there, bright and burning like the love still living in his heart. It had been so long, but he could find Ichigo anywhere. He ran and ran day and night without tiring, feet pounding down the path through the Fugai, the trails much better kept and more easily traversed than under the leadership of the young prince. It was as if a red thread had opened up in front of him, guiding him ever onward. He barely had to open his eyes, his heart calling out with such fervor and leading him on.

He traveled tirelessly, and by the time he arrived back in the Hokutan, he was sure a full year had passed since he and Ichigo had come to this place and saved Rukia. He planned to visit with her later, excited to see her again, but first, Ichigo. He asked a few farmers resting along the path, merrily eating their lunch and taking a break from picking rice, “Where can I find Kurosaki Ichigo? Is his house around here?”

He was pointed to Minamikawase, and found Ichigo’s home, a charming little farmhouse with a patched roof and mismatched windows. There was a pie cooling in the windowsill and flowers growing out front, and Renji felt his heart swell with nerves as he walked up to the door and knocked.

When Ichigo answered, Renji’s smile faltered a bit at the sight of him. He looked so much older, so tired and sad.

“Renji?” Ichigo asked, expression absolutely flabbergasted. Once he recovered his surprise, he shifted rather uncomfortably. “... What are you doing here?”

Renji felt a little silly now, running all the way back here with little forethought, but then, wordlessly, held out the flower. A darkness came over Ichigo’s face, but Renji wouldn’t be discouraged just yet. “Since we said goodbye,” he told him, “I can’t forget you.” Taking a breath, he tried to find the words. “I… I think my heart could find yours anywhere,” he breathed tenderly.

Ichigo was quiet for a long time, head dipped forward, his short hair casting his cheeks into shadow. “Love?” he murmured at last. Renji smiled, trying to meet his gaze. He didn’t think he’d ever adored anything more than those sad brown eyes.

Ichigo looked back at him almost shyly, a certain vulnerability showing through as he said quietly, “But what’s there to love about me?”  
  


Crestfallen, Renji said emphatically, “You’re kind and brave, and, and-”  
  


Ichigo shook his head, furrowing his brow. “Stop, stop.” Renji tried to continue, but Ichigo insisted, “I don’t want to hear anymore.” Looking him in the eye, Ichigo refused the flower again, telling him, “Renji, no.”

“But why?” he protested, heartbroken. “You don’t feel the same?”

“It… it doesn’t matter.” Ichigo made to turn away and close the door, but Renji stopped him.

“You _do_ feel the same?!” he demanded. “Why are you pulling away? Please don't pull away from me. Are you afraid?” Desperately, he promised, “I won’t press you, I won’t ask for anything – all I want is to be close to you. Don’t send me away from you, Ichigo, please!”

“The people I care about, whatever magic’s inside of me,” Ichigo croaked, shoulders loose in shame. “It’s not strong enough to keep them safe,” he whispered, head down, trying again to close the door and shut him out.

“What do you mean?” Renji wondered. “You rescued Rukia, didn’t you?”

“Renji, leave me alone,” he hissed, glancing behind him into the house.

“I can’t!” he hollered, “How can I?!”

Suddenly, within the house, he could hear someone begin crying aloud, small helpless cries, that of an infant. His blood froze, and all he could do was stare, stunned. Ichigo cringed away, eyes low in shame, and shut the door.  
  


“Just leave,” he whispered, and Renji did, walking away in a daze.


	25. Chapter 25

For most of Ikkaku’s upbringing, he’d assured himself when faced with his father’s loud unsavory opinions by thinking that he wasn't like Kenpachi; he was different, he’d grow up to be different. Of course, he found out later that his father, who’d hated fae folk for cursing the woman he loved, had cared for and loved a fae year after year, a little girl who’d come down to play with him and never left.

And really, with Yumichika at his side, Ikkaku understood nothing better.

They’d lived together for about a year, in love and great prosperity, but as it always did, there came the concern that he had no heir. He taught the little children of his people, looking for a sign that the next Kempachi was out there, waiting to rise to brilliance - but he has no child of his own.

Eventually, a young widow died in childbirth, and a little baby was born, left with no family. Despite the way Zarakijin usually take care of their own, circle the wagons, act with generosity, the babe was left unclaimed, and was brought in one day, her fate to be decided along with many other matters that constituted the daily list of grievances Ikkaku had to see to.

He and Yumichika exchange a look after taking a single glance at her, recognizing the sleeping baby at once, a tuft of hair the color of cherry blossoms. 

 

At the end of the child's first year, the two of them bring her to the mountain and pray for good fortune.

 

. . .

 

Rolling in the blackness, Renji stumbled aimlessly. “Zabimaru…” he whispered. “You told me a golden heart would always find love. You told me the loneliness would pass.”

Clutching his chest, he begged, “Why… why was he taken away from me?” but there came no answer.  
  


“Zabimaru?”  
  


In the morning, the rice fields everywhere for miles had bloomed with lotuses. He gave a great sigh and went out into the woods and glumly perched on a rock. After a long time sitting alone, he heard footsteps in the grass, and looked up a bit to see that Ichigo had come.

At first he was surprised, not having expected him to ever want to see him again, and they just stared at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other.  


Finally, Renji thought one of them should say _something,_  so he muttered, “A baby.”  


Ichigo tilted his head down, shifting minutely. “A baby son.”  


Immediately, a picture appeared in his head, uninvited – a little fluffy-headed baby boy, wiggling and adorable, round soft cheeks and big eyes, a face that was Ichigo and… someone else.

“Oh…” was all he managed to say for a long time. Ichigo didn’t seem to know what to do, standing there with his shoulders slumped, in shame, defeat, he didn’t know. Heart aching and mourning, he eventually made himself say, his voice deadened, “I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”

Ichigo didn’t reply, beginning to breathe irregularly, like he was trying to get out a reply. At last, gesticulating helplessly, he told him with a raw quality to his voice, “You know how… how sometimes you can see what’s wrong in other people but not what’s wrong in yourself?”

“Yes?”

“I thought Kuchiki was so horrible for what he did,” Ichigo rasped. “He lost his great love, and then he finds a girl who looks like her and he keeps her in a cage.”

He didn’t know what this had to do with Ichigo’s new baby son. Why was he telling him this? “What does this…”

Ichigo at last said, “There was a girl…” and Renji’s heart seized, even though he already knew where this was going, of course he’d _known_ if Ichigo had a child. All the same, the pain of hearing it was unbearable.  


“She… she…” Ichigo tried, head dropping.  


“Yes?” Renji prompted, he didn’t know how.  


“I lost my mother, and… I never thought I’d stop feeling that pain,” Ichigo explained, a hand clutching at his chest. “Every time I go to sleep I see her face, I can’t stop missing her.” He swallowed. Renji listened with bated breath, eyes wide.

“There was a girl in the village,” Ichigo said. “I’ve known her a long time. She’s always been so kind and good, and… when we grew up, she…”  


“Ichigo,” Renji tried, not wanting to hear the rest.  


“She looked like my mom,” Ichigo said gravely. “And I… _I…_ ”  


“Oh…” Renji watched him tear himself apart, not knowing what to do.  


“You were gone, and Rukia’s with her brother, and… I felt lonely,” he breathed. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“And you made a family with her,” Renji mumbled. “With your baby son, together.”  


“No.” Ichigo scrubbed an eye with his wrist.  


“What happened to her?”  


“She died,” he said bitterly. “Like, a couple weeks after you left, she died. It’s like… no matter what I do, I just keep on hurting people. I can’t stand it, people calling me brave, like I’m a good person. I’m not. I’m not. That’s why there’s no point in… no point in hoping,” he wrenched out.

“Why did you come to tell me this,” Renji mumbled, eyes cast away, unable to bear seeing Ichigo’s eyes welling with tears and hear his voice twisted tight with pain.  


“Because,” Ichigo spat. “I wanted to explain… _him.”_  


“Oh. Well you explained.” Ichigo was silent then, staring at his feet and clenching his fists, but didn’t leave. Renji at last wondered, trying to be sensitive, “so… the baby… I mean... how then, if she died that early on?”

Ichigo seemed fit to burst for a few moments, his chest swelling, but no words coming out as he jittered where he stood.  


At last he blurted, “He came out of a lotus bloom in the woods.”  


Renji was quiet for a couples seconds, one eyebrow scrunching down, the other lifting in disbelief, because other than the revelation the baby had come from a lotus – _a lotus_ – he still was completely incredulous at that claim. “... How did a lotus grow in the woods?”

“How should I know?” Ichigo grumbled, throwing himself down in the grass near Renji’s feet in a huff, elbow on his knee, chin on his hand. Renji sat there atop the stone for a few moments, wondering if he should try to get closer or keep his distance. Ichigo had come to find him – why, why, why?

“... How did a little baby fit inside a flower?” he muttered, fascinated. Ichigo huffed, holding his hands apart.

“He was small, and then he-” Scrubbing his head and face, he said, “Look, it doesn’t matter. He’s mine."  


“How can you tell?” Renji wondered.  


“There’s no mistaking it,” Ichigo said grimly, and Renji mentally confirmed the fluffy-head idea.  


Hesitantly, Renji hedged, “And… you’re going to take care of him? All by yourself?”  


“I have my sisters, but yeah, I have to, what else can I do?” Ichigo said it so obviously, as if that were just a _granted thing,_  that a parent would take care of their child by default, but Renji’s gut clenched and he loved him all the more. Growing up the way he had, he didn’t know how many times he’d come across little sun-dried corpses in the wastes or torn to shreds by vultures, or even little ones still barely alive, gasping for breath, abandoned on a hillside.  


That it didn’t even cross Ichigo’s mind to leave a little baby out in the woods when it wasn’t even his, Renji almost couldn’t stand it.  


"All this time, I was searching for freedom... trying to take control of my life, but... I can't leave. I have to stay here."

“Is that why you sent me away yesterday?” he wondered, fidgeting and playing with his toes. “You don’t want me to come around your baby? You’re too busy now to… be with me?” Ichigo put his head in his hands for a moment, then rested his palms on the sides of his face, squeezing his cheeks, his eyes flat and sarcastic, somehow conveying a perfect picture of being exhausted and stressed out and _done._

“I have a boring life, Renji,” he told him, eyes going sad then, as if begging him to understand, to… to stop tempting him with a dream that it could be any other way than it was. “Nothing interesting’s happened to me besides the whole Rukia thing and losing my parents in my entire life. I mean, it’s not as bad now that Lord Kuchiki stopped being such an asshole, but all I still do is work in a field and on the farm and take care of my sisters, and now Kazui.” Having the opposite effect of what Ichigo had obviously hoped, Renji perked up uncontrollably at the sound of the little guy’s name.

“I…” Ichigo cleared his throat almost helplessly, his tone of voice going questioning and desperate, as if seeing he was losing this argument. “I can’t exactly uproot and make a change.”

Renji’s eyes lit up and his face softened. “Ichigo,” he said, smiling at him, “Why would I ever want to go anywhere else, if you’re here?” Ichigo looked away, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“... I don’t see what the point is for you,” he muttered, folding his arms atop his knees. “I’d only hold you down.”

Renji stepped down from the stone statue into a crouch a few feet from Ichigo, and ducked to try and catch his eyes. “Like I said, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Ichigo looked at him for no more than a moment before his eyes drop and he doesn’t seem to know what to say. “This whole thing about your baby son, that can’t be the reason, because even before you found him, you still sent me away… How come?”

Ichigo gave a half-shrug, looking at the ground dejectedly. “Ichigo, how did you find me today?” Renji tried at last.

“I,” he began, then stopped. “I don’t know. I… Just…” He looked up into Renji’s face, this sad open expression on his face.

“...” Renji gave a knowing grimace and held up his hand, playing with his thread finger, at which Ichigo rolled his head back in exasperation.

“I mean, if you _really_ wanted to see him, then…” he ceded begrudgingly.

Renji lit up, sitting up straighter and drawing closer a little bit, eagerly asking, “You’d show him to me?” Ichigo looked away, pursing his lips to the side and coloring a little bit, scratching the back of his head.

“Ahh, I guess,” he muttered. “He’s about two months, I’d say? So he just sleeps mostly.” Looking at his lap, he shared, “He’s a good baby.” Renji beamed, listening with avid attention. “I have to tie him onto my back during the day when I’m in the field, and he doesn’t hardly cry or squirm at all.”  


Renji just smiled in excitement. “Does he do anything cute?”  


“Heh, yeah,” Ichigo at last smiled a little. “He laughs.”  


Renji’s heart beat uncontrollably then when Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away. “Uh… anyway. Do you…” Renji raised both eyebrows, holding his breath. “Do you still…” He waited, and at last Ichigo looked at him, unable to say anything else.  


“...”  


“Do you want to… come over for dinner?” Ichigo got out, staring at the ground like a stubborn kid.

Thrilled from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, Renji gazed on in open shock. Ichigo had changed his mind! Not knowing what to do with himself, Renji licked his lips and shyly looked at his feet.

Ichigo hunched his shoulders and stood up sharply, shouting in the other direction, “If you want to stay, you-!... You can sleep in the barn!”

Renji burst out in laughter then, standing up and following as Ichigo stomped off a few steps and then stood still, tense at every muscle. Renji slowly approached, touched him, just a little, on the hand, drawing close to his side, leaning his head in near his shoulder.

Ichigo flinched back, turning his face completely away in shyness, but as Renji stepped around in front of him and ran a gentle hand along his cheek, he was able to coax his head to his, and hugged Ichigo in a warm embrace. He could feel Ichigo’s hands rest on his back, lightly, with hesitance.

“Missed you, bud,” Renji hummed, a hand daring to brush through Ichigo’s hair. Ichigo was silent, stiff, allowing the hug, his cheek pressed to Renji’s neck, his forehead and hair tickling Renji’s shoulder. He didn't pull away.  


“Yeah.”  


“You still believe in magic even without me there to beat it into your head?”  


“Sometimes. A little.”  


Renji pulled back just a little, running his lips along Ichigo’s cheek until at last, Ichigo let him kiss him on the mouth, accepting the warm press of his lips. “I love you,” he murmured.  


“Yeah. Say you’re sorry,” Ichigo demanded flatly.  


“What? No,” Renji refused with a flat frown of his own.  


“You’d better. Your _love_ fucked up every rice plot on Kuchiki’s estate.” Renji threw his head back in a laugh, and despite Ichigo’s best efforts at scowling it off, he smiled just a little.  


When Ichigo led him up the lotus-lined path to his little cottage, Renji was home.  


. . .

 

_And they all lived happily ever after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source material of legends included:
> 
> The Golden Apples and the Nine Peahens. [Serbian] (The basic Yumichika/Ikkaku storyline leading up until just after the point Ikkaku kills his traitorous servant Hisagi and then finds Yumichika and they're married.)
> 
> The Garden of the Hesperides [Greek] (A magical fruit tree is guarded by a hundred-headed dragon and beautiful nymphs.)
> 
> The Golden Apple of Discord [Greek] (The apple that starts the Trojan War - Apple that Nemu steals)
> 
> The Princess Who Never Smiled/The Unsmiling Tsarevna [Russian] (Whoever makes Nemu smile will win her hand.)
> 
> Tsarevitch Ivan, The Firebird, and the Grey Wolf [Russian] (Zabimaru provides a replica of Rukia like the Grey Wolf does for Helen the Beautiful. Ivan is a very common hero in Russian folklore, saves young women, like Ichigo with Rukia.)
> 
> Sleeping Beauty/Snow White [French] (Rukia is sent into a cursed sleep like Sleeping Beauty and Snow White do. Also, Nemu is harmed by a poisoned apple like Snow White)
> 
> Rapunzel [German] (Rukia is exiled to a tower like Rapunzel is and Ichigo climbs to meet her)
> 
> The Lady of Shalott [English] (Rukia is cursed because she looks out the window and is doomed to die being sent down the river in a boat to later be swallowed by the river spirit)
> 
> The Legend of Tokoyo [Japanese] (The girl who dives into the water and stabs the dragon in place of the sacrificial girl, similar to Renji leaping in to save Ichigo and Rukia.)
> 
> Tam Lin [Scottish] (Renji holds Ichigo in a lover's embrace and won't let go as Janet won't let go of Tam Lin as he transforms into a serpent)
> 
> The Dragon's Pearl [Chinese] (The story of how Ichigo's mother died: a boy finds grass and a pearl, swallows it, becomes a dragon)
> 
> Journey to the West [Chinese] (Monkey comes from a stone statue just as a Zabimaru does.)
> 
> Momotarou [Japanese] (Ichigo goes to the island and fights the Menos just as Momotarou fights the Oni. Momotarou has a monkey and dog companion, similar to Renji. Monkeys scare off Oni, note that no Oni attacked while Renji was with Ichigo on the island. Renji also notices that Ichigo's coloring resembles a peach, they find Zangetsu sword in a peach on a bamboo stalk in the woods, etc.)
> 
> Fairy wife/ Fairy food legend [uncredited due to widespread sources] (Byakuya's adventure with Hisana)
> 
> The Red thread of Fate [Japanese] (Story of Orihime and the Star Boy)
> 
> The Red Lotus [Japanese folklore]
> 
> Damsel in Distress [All]
> 
> Dragon stealing a Princess [All]
> 
>  
> 
> The locket Ikkaku is cursed with is actually known as Rondal's Locket. It's a legendary amulet from Diablo III and is a real item that is playable in the game. The item description is the love note that Ikkaku finds inside in the beginning of the story, 'to rondal, when you carry this, you carry my heart, etc.'
> 
>  
> 
> Also, let it be noted that the stories Ruri'iro tells Houzukimaru of their previous 'children' are true stories of fucking /badass/ chinese girls as they have been described historically. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you very much for your readership.


End file.
